


Threads of Destiny

by AzureSummoner



Series: The Red String of Fate [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Aftercare, Angst, Blow Jobs, Emet-Selch Still Needs Therapy, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hyur Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Oral Sex, Patch 5.2: Echoes of a Fallen Star Spoilers, Soulmates, Summoner Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Tempering (Final Fantasy XIV), Tentacles, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaginal Sex, WoL Still Needs Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 23,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23356111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureSummoner/pseuds/AzureSummoner
Summary: Sequel to The Red String of Fate (formerly named The Binding Ties).Emet-Selch has taken the Warrior of Light, leaving the Scions to deal with Vauthry and the Rejoining on their own.
Relationships: 14th Member of the Convocation of Fourteen/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Series: The Red String of Fate [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679860
Comments: 27
Kudos: 161





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go again.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fourteenth reflects on conditions for the Rejoining of the First, and receives an unexpected visitor.

In the watery light below the surface of the sea, the phantom Amaurot casts an eerie luster. There is no wind to stir the grass or carry the scent of fresh flowers. No lilting birdsong, or mundane chatter to fill the air. But neither is there the sickly-sweet stench of burning flesh, nor the terror-stricken cries of the doomed and the damned. Only the murmurs of ghostly Shades that walk the streets and huddle in corners, trapped in stasis on the eve of their end. It is a perpetual testament to the burden shouldered by the man you've left behind, sleeping unawares while you steal a moment alone to think, and to reflect. 

Just a moment above the water's surface is all that you ask. You'll be back before Hades wakes; it's doubtful he'll realize that you were ever gone. He's been distracted, you've noticed. Not that he's ignored you, perish the thought, but rather his mind has been preoccupied with the matter of _where you both will go from here_. You have single-handedly killed all but one of the Lightwardens on this shard, and the vile Light you'd amassed inside yourself was extinguished by Zodiark, Himself. The Rejoining that your beloved had so meticulously planned and toiled for has been entirely ruined by your hand, and while he may bear no grudge for it, the fact remains that your wrongs must be righted. While he has internally warred with your next steps, you have been quietly piecing together your own plans. If this could work… if you could just give him this...

You gesture to summon a cloud of dark aether before you. You've mostly become accustomed to the shadowy teleportation, after years of using aetherytes. The portal bridges your path from Amaurot to the surface, and when you arrive you immediately shield your eyes. The light of the natural sun is more blinding than you remember. Before long you are forced to seek solace in the shade of a tree. The air, however, is cool and fresh in your lungs after weeks spent underwater, and the sounds of nature are a siren song in your ears. 

For so long wanderlust reigned in your heart, as you traveled from place to place without anchor. Even with the Scions you never truly settled down. Ishgard had almost come to feel like a second home, but still that was never quite enough. Your own humble cottage often sat vacant while you ventured throughout Eorzea and the lands beyond, just a place to sleep at the end of the day. ‘Home’ was a concept you never entirely understood, simply going wherever the wind carried you. But now, having experienced the vision of Amaurot with Hades at your side, along with your distant memories, a terrible homesickness has been awakened in you. For the first time, perhaps in all of your mortal life, you feel that there is somewhere you _belong_. 

Unfortunately, that _somewhere_ no longer exists. Everything and everyone that you knew were long ago shattered to pieces by Hydaelyn. It may be a small blessing that you can’t remember the end of days by your own accord. All you have to go by are the murals that lay beneath the Qitana Ravel, and the recreation from Hades’ memories that you fought your way through. It’s a difficult subject that you haven’t cared to breach, but questions linger. What had happened at the end? If you were whole, if your memories were completely restored, then maybe--

You’re so focused on prying into the recesses of your mind that it comes as a complete shock to your system when the world around you tilts, sending you stumbling to catch your balance. Something sears across the synapses of your brain, and the air around you pulls at your very being, like so many grasping hands. Is this Zodiark’s doing? Is this the price you must pay for being sundered, for trying to reach out through time and space toward the missing fragments of your soul? It’s as debilitating as it is painful, and you can feel the edges of your vision growing dark. You’re ready to collapse when a voice calls to you. Someone is reaching out to you.

“... _Warrior_.” You know that voice. Latch onto it. Let it tether you. 

Reality shifts and rights itself behind your eyes, with a nauseating twist of your stomach. It leaves you braced against a sturdy tree, clutching your sides and gulping down air as your vision slowly clears and focuses on a man in familiar robes of white and gold.

“Elidibus.” The word comes out as more breath than sound as you find your footing and take an uncertain step forward, followed by another. Where had he come from? How long had he been there? 

The man before you makes no move, merely regards you. You've never seen his face, but his height and the line of his jaw suggest the appearance of a fellow Hyur. It seems to be the vessel of choice among the Ascians, save Hades. Though, Elidibus occupies no vessel in truth. If not for the abilities granted to you by the Echo, you wouldn't even be able to perceive him in his current spectral form.

"Are you well, Warrior? No, I should address you as the Fourteenth. You appear to be out of sorts," he notes, his full lips twitching with mirth. "Is Emet-Selch not looking after you well enough? I would be woefully displeased to learn of such a thing after all of his grieving. He made it so adamantly _clear_ throughout these long years -- the _moment_ that one of us should locate the Fourteenth he would know of it, posthaste." He props his chin, as if considering something. 

"I've never seen a man so desperate to stake his claim. Well, to the victor go the spoils, do they not?"

"I have a _name_ ," you bite back, knitting your brows together as you look over your erstwhile foe. "And I'm not his _trophy_."

"I know your name," he smiles. The glint of metal catches his interest, red mask tilting to study you. Then one step, another, slow and deliberate as he saunters forward. Determined to stand your ground you're a bit late to react as he catches you by the hand, lifting it to examine the ring adorning your finger. "Ah. What a sentimental man. Well, congratulations on your renewed wedding vows."

You tug your hand from his grip without delicacy, and his lips press into a straight line. "Why are you here, Elidibus? Do you still mean to kill me?"

That gets a laugh from him. "Oh dear me, I think not. Our lord Zodiark is quite pleased to have you join us. It _is_ where you belong. And aside from that," he gestures in dramatic fashion, "I'm quite sure that Emet-Selch would kill _me_ if I dared to look at you sideways. He must not know of what transpired in the Ghimlyt Dark?"

"Not yet," comes your underhanded warning. At any rate, it seems that Elidibus hasn't come to rekindle old grudges. You _are_ on the same side, after all. "So then, why have you come to call? I would have expected you to be busy minding the Source."

He looks bird-like, you decide, between the beaked mask and the way he cocks his head at you. You've anticipated this moment, given how thoroughly you've upset Hades' plans for the First. Surely he's come to squawk about the setback -- though it strikes you as strange. As Emissary, he has claimed to be concerned only for the balance between Light and Dark; a line he crossed when he possessed Zenos’ corpse and attempted to slay you.

"Seeing as how you've been subjugated by our dear Emet-Selch, it's one less concern for me. The Warrior of Light no longer threatens to overwhelm the Source with her brilliant illumination." 

Your brow wrinkles, and your fists tighten at the words Elidibus chooses. Surely he's looking for a way to get under your skin, but you’re unable to guess at his motive. "If you've only come to insult me --"

"Of course not. There are _matters_ that we must discuss. Since Emet-Selch cannot be bothered to grace us with his presence, I will entrust this message with you."

What he tells you next sends a chill through your bones. Zenos is alive. 

"H--how?" The question is out of your mouth before you can clamp down on it. "I watched him die!"

"It defies all reason, but nonetheless, ‘tis true. His soul found a way to possess a vessel, not unlike we Ascians. And then--"

"You were using his body as your host."

Elidibus stands silent and squares his shoulders. “ _Was_ , yes.” 

"You can't be serious." There's no way. Zenos was _mortal_. That he should rise from his grave is vexing enough, but to think that he has reclaimed his body… "You fled, didn't you?"

"There was no other choice," he sneers. “He is truly a monster. And he seems to be quite fixated on you, dear Fourteenth. Must run in the family.”

“That’s not really your concern.” Elidibus merely smiles. It’s unnerving. “So what if Zenos has returned? What else is there?”

“Varis is dead,” he states plainly. “Slain by his own progeny. And with him goes Black Rose, as the Empire descends into chaos.”

“Then the conditions for the Rejoining are--”

“I trust the news will be more palatable coming from _your_ mouth. Do be gentle? Emet-Selch worked so very hard to set the stage.”

You bare your teeth, and raise your fists in anger. “You’re going to burden _me_ with announcing your failure?”

“Tsk, ‘tis poor form to threaten an Emissary,” he chides, wagging a finger at you. “Remember how it worked out for the Antecedent?”

Yes, you remember very well how Elidibus had appeared before Minfilia, and subsequently struck her down in ‘self defense’. She, however, hadn’t been a fighter; and Elidibus had resorted to possessing _Zenos’_ corpse, believing it would give him the power to end your life. Are his own abilities not enough to face you directly?

“You’re actually considering it, aren’t you?” He shakes his head in disapproval. “I have no interest in fighting one of _ours_.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?” you growl, but he only sighs and slumps his shoulders in defeat.

“I’ve meant no offense,” he soothes, taking a step forward. “We are both children of Zodiark. There’s no need for hostilities between us.” 

You square up your frame and advance a step of your own. It’s enough to give Elidibus pause as he thinks better of pressing you further. “Noted. Is there anything else?”

A silence hangs between you, before the man relaxes and shrugs. “Please see that Emet-Selch receives the message.” He watches for a moment, but you are unyielding in your assertiveness. Seeing that there is no room today to build on pleasantries, Elidibus bows deeply in a parting sentiment. 

“Let us meet again as friends, Fourteenth.” 

His words do nothing to lessen the frown on your face as he steps back and disappears through shadowy aether, leaving you alone once more with only the wildlife for company. 

\---------------

“So what did our dear Emissary want?” 

You open your eyes, broken from your drifting thoughts. Of course Hades would know. His unparalleled ability to tell individual souls apart would make it child's play for him to have detected Elidibus's presence. Which means he had been watching your journey to the surface all along. Cradled in his lap as you are there’s no way to dodge his question. His long fingers are tangled through your hair, teasing soft noises of pleasure from you as he massages the tense muscles along your scalp. His other arm is draped across you possessively, where he strokes absently at the curve of your hip. You’re not going anywhere. If the heat between your thighs is any indication however, you don’t really _want_ to be anywhere else.

“No good news,” you sigh, willing your eyelids to drift shut once more. Your head is as a dead weight at Hades’ shoulder, and if your body could press any harder into his you just might become part of him. His soft breath gently stirs your bangs, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest along with his steady heartbeat will soon lull you back into a trance-like state if he would do you the kindness of remaining quiet. He does not.

“And?” he continues, drawing a quiet but frustrated whine from your throat. There are exactly two outcomes that you will accept for the time being. One, is that Hades allows you to drift off into a pleasant sleep held so securely in his arms. The other, that he pin you down and give you the fucking of your life. Neither of these involve speaking of Elidibus or the ill tidings that he has laid at your doorstep.

“Do we really need to discuss this _now_?” you grumble. After returning to Amaurot it didn’t take long for Hades to catch up with you, wanting to ‘talk’... which somehow ended with you in his lap. Perhaps he’ll allow the topic to slide for a few hours, let you relax and enjoy his affections. Or not.

“Elidibus is _supposed_ to be overseeing the Source,” Hades thrums, the deep timbre of his voice sending delightful shivers down your spine. He notices. “Is that what does it for you, my dear?” he hums in amusement. “Listening to me disparage the heart of the Convocation?”

His fingertips continue to press and knead in all of the right places, and you feel the barest brush of his lips against your forehead. Twelve thousand years separated and he still remembers the ways that you like to be touched. ... _Me?_ _Or her?_ Now where did that thought come from? You already know that you _are_ her, as much as _she_ is _you_. Perhaps it is the aftertaste of knowing that you are yet fragmented, incomplete. A longing for the missing parts of your soul. If you were put back together, made whole once more… This seems to be a recurring thought these days.

“No good news, hm?” Hades sighs, repeating your words. “Am I to be kept guessing? Don’t tell me that you are now in the habit of keeping secrets from your husband. Or, is _that_ Elidibus’s game? Does he expect that having _you_ deliver some dreadful message as I hold you like this would somehow shield him from my ire?” He scoffs, but something in his words has struck a chord with you. Elidibus’s earlier words ring in your ears and give rise to your own anger. Hades’ hands still as you move for the first time in a long while, sitting up to look at him.

“By _his_ words I have been ‘ _subjugated_ ’ and ‘ _claimed_ ’ as your consort,” you complain, to which Hades raises his eyebrows in consternation before he closes his eyes and scowls. 

“That _imbecile_ …” he huffs, but a slow shake of his head and he has regained his neutral composure. “Certainly I fought to save you from Hydaelyn’s sway,” he says, watching you carefully with those bright, aurum eyes. “You were fast in Her grip and prepared to battle with me every step of the way. I held no desire to harm you. Why do you think I went to such troubles to cooperate with your motley troupe? Or why I sought the path of seduction, rather than to take you by force outright?”

“You _tempered_ me,” you bite back, the words out of your mouth before you can stop them. There’s a flash of something pained and desperate in Hades’ eyes before his hand finds yours, gripping tight as he looks at you most gravely.

“I did what was necessary to bring you back to my side. I would do _whatever it takes_ to keep you here and make you whole again,” he swears, and you find yourself frozen in place under the intensity with which he watches you. 

“Elidibus… doesn’t seem to know about--” your gaze shifts to where Hades holds tight to your hand, to the black metal band that adorns your fourth finger. Something Elidibus said previously comes to mind. _I remember a time when you dreamed of settling down with Emet-Selch._ That can't be quite right, unless you had married in secret. Why didn't Elidibus seem to know…?

“That Elidibus isn’t--” Hades closes his eyes and exhales a long breath, seemingly blowing out the tension that has seized his substantial frame. His grasp on your hand becomes gentle, and with so much tenderness he raises your fingers to his lips. “...Forgive me,” he pleads, pressing a soft kiss to each knuckle.

That Elidibus isn’t… isn’t what? _That_ Elidibus…? Did you imagine the way that Hades emphasized the word? He seems to have detected your confusion, turning your smaller hand over in his to place a kiss against your palm.

“I _will_ hear what the Emissary had to say, but it need not be tonight,” he acquiesces, though you have no reason to keep the message from him other than your own selfish desire to be held and comforted. But now there’s a tension between you. You don’t want that. Taking his hand between both of yours, you gently stroke over the tips of his fingers. It has the intended effect of stirring his interest. “And what are you doing?”

“Wondering how sharp those claws really are,” you murmur, remembering the way the light had glinted off of Elidibus’s talons.

“Would you like me to demonstrate on Elidibus? It would serve him right for whatever he has said to distress you.” Hades smirks, but you shake your head and he tilts his gaze at you curiously.

“Why did you approach us without hiding behind your mask like the others?” you ask.

He frowns at your use of ‘ _us_ ’, but it’s gone before you notice it, Hades easily wearing his amusement once more. “Why not? Solus was already a well known personage, and I had revealed my play to Varis.”

You barely stop yourself from reacting to Varis’s name, knowing that when you convey Elidibus’s message you will be forced to confront the events that led to his end. You’re not quite ready to acknowledge that Zenos yet lives, or to explain to Hades his great-grandson’s unhealthy interest in you.

“Not good enough, hm? Would you believe that I thought I might charm you with Solus’s face?”

“Now you simply sound full of yourself,” you groan, to which he responds by removing his hand from your grasp to stroke his thumb along your lower lip. 

“It worked, didn’t it?” The cross expression you show only serves to widen his smug grin. 

Ah. He gives you an opening to redirect, and you seize on it. “That’s not what you want though, is it Hades?” you scoff. There’s no way that he’ll let your question slide. He’s too vain. His arm is already snaking around your waist and it takes some effort to hide your satisfaction. He may never have forgotten how to drive you crazy, but you have rediscovered how to bend him to your whims.

“And what do you mean by that?” Hades queries, his tone dipping low. He’s not smiling any longer, and you know that you have him.

“That depends. Am I so cheap that I should only desire a pretty face? Don’t you want to remind me of how great and terrible _Hades_ can be?”

You squeal in surprise, falling to your ass on the floor as the man stands abruptly. He’s leering down at you dangerously and your heart hammers against your ribs with anticipation. Congratulations, you’ve roused him now. You’re forced to bite your tongue to keep from licking your lips as you begin to imagine what he might do to you.

“I do love you so,” Hades speaks, soft and sinful. “You have always desired me as I am, even at my worst. I have never needed to play at being an Emperor to make you get on your knees for me, have I?” he croons, kneeling to face you. With great care he reaches out to stroke your cheek with a lover’s caress, but his yellow eyes glow with mischief when he withdraws his hand and _snaps_.

Your eyes belatedly focus on the fragile object pinched between his fingers -- a single flower petal. “What is that?” you ask, voice thick with desire yet trembling with alarm.

“You should have an idea, darling. It is _your_ creation from so very long ago. I merely _improved_ on the design a bit. Now, be a good girl and open up.” 

Hades is already pressing his thumb into your mouth before you've fully processed his demand, but you know exactly which wayward concept of yours he's referring to. The burst of bitter florals dissolves on your tongue before he hauls you in to steal your breath, insistent and hungry. He could set your blood boiling if he merely continued to kiss you like this, but it seems that he means to have you wild and free. His eyes are wicked and knowing when he draws away, and you’re beginning to wonder which of you has actually been played by the other. 

“You never could hide your wants from me, love,” Hades teases, laughing as he dodges your clumsy attempt to reclaim his mouth.

A tingling in your extremities and the growing warmth in your body serve as warning that his aphrodisiac is beginning to take effect. Whatever ‘improvements’ he’s made upon your concept will be revealed soon enough, and you are equally thrilled and terrified to find out what they are. Hades’ game is as titillating as it is humiliating, but if you are doomed to make a fool of yourself you are determined to drag him down even further.

“You are insufferable,” you hiss, much to his delight. 

“I shall never tire of you saying that,” he declares. It's something you've said to him at least a million times in your prior life together, there's no reason to stop now. "Don't complain," he continues. "I intend to give you what you want."

"By drugging me?" you ask, watching as the air shifts around your beloved. Black and violet aether bleeds around his figure, coalescing into the dark Ascian's robes that you are so familiar with. The visage of Solus is now carefully concealed behind the red mask of Emet-Selch. Like this it's easy enough to pretend that the man behind the mask is, in form as well as spirit, the snowy haired figure from your memories. 

"That's merely upping the stakes for your amusement. I can only act so _great and terrible_ toward my own wife, after all." He smirks. "This _is_ what you're craving, isn't it? You don't want to be _subjugated_ by Solus. You want to be _claimed_ by _me_."

The accusation sends a thrill of excitement from your head to your toes. _Yes_. No matter what face he wears, it's unmistakably your Hades that speaks to you. Out of all the souls to ever exist, he always knew you best. Still knows you. You curse and bless him in the same breath, reaching for him, but he laughs and leans just out of your reach. 

"I think not," he says, getting to his feet and leaving you sitting alone on the floor. You follow suit, unsteadily rising and _watching_ him, waiting, clenching and unclenching your fingers with a growing impatience to touch. 

A smile plays on Hades' lips and he extends a hand, reaching with gleaming talons that appear razor sharp and threatening. You swallow and tilt your chin up as the needle-like tips ghost along your lips and slowly trail downward, along the vulnerable column of your neck where your life's essence pulses just below the skin, over the ridge of your slender collarbone, then further down to hover just shy of the curve of your breasts. You release your held breath, and in the same beat Hades _flicks_ his wrists and snags a talon beneath the straps of fabric that cross just above your cleavage. The slightest _tug_ and the material is cut clean, leaving your eyes widening and your pulse racing from the demonstration. 

"So you see," Hades hums, moving in towards you, "they can be _quite_ lethal." You dare not move but your eyes follow the imposing man as he circles you unhurriedly, his claws raking over your body just shy of delicate skin, barely brushing along the fabric of your coat where it covers your stomach, enticing and threatening. It sends a surge of _want_ right between your thighs to think that a bit more pressure would easily rend flesh, but Hades exercises such careful restraint. Not even a thread is pulled out of place under his meticulous touch. 

He stops behind you, the warmth of him pressed against your back as his arms curl around your waist. _Yes_ , you think, _this feels like home_. The place doesn’t matter, so long as you can stay wrapped in his embrace like this. Of course, with Hades’ spell influencing your desires you aren’t able to remain still. Instead you explore how many points of contact you can make between your bodies, especially in the way you push your bottom into his hardening arousal. His voice rumbles low in your ear as he murmurs terrible promises to you. Shall he put you on your knees? Do you want him to stroke you to climax with those claws? It’s so _unfair_. How can he be so controlled when you’re ready to pull him to the floor with you? 

It doesn’t have to be so one-sided. As he said, it is _your_ concept that he’s borrowed. And the time since your reunion hasn’t been spent in idleness. Hades has made a point to explore those abilities that have been restored to you, and though diminished as compared to your Ancient self, that extends to your control of creation magics. Eye for an eye, you decide, and lean back to distract him with a kiss as you conjure a bit of aether in your palm.

“Make out with me a little,” you murmur, turning to push him back into that chair. You don’t have to ask twice. He knows how it gets you fired up. The moment you crawl into Hades’ lap his hands are all over you, squeezing the flesh of your ass, the softness of your breasts, roaming through your long hair. He only lets you come up for breath when you’re certain that you’re about to asphyxiate. 

That’s when you take your chances. The moment you part you throw your arms around his neck and hold him close, nuzzling against his neck. You can’t really do much, thanks to the high collar of his undershirt, but you’re quick to slip the dainty petal in your palm into your mouth before he hauls you back up for another kiss. The instant your lips meet he realizes that something is amiss, and attempts to break free. You don’t give him the chance. 

Before Hades can think to pull away you seize his mouth and thrust your tongue against his, forcing him to taste the same sort of bitter petal that he had fed to you earlier. He struggles but you are relentless, pressing into him until he’s forced to swallow the sour blossom. You reward him by breaking the kiss and allowing him to catch his breath, wearing your satisfaction proudly as you brush a finger against his lips. “Learned to swallow, did we? What a good boy, Hades.”

His scowl only heightens your delight, even though he’s certain to leave bruises where he grips at your waist. “Damned seductress,” Hades laughs darkly, peering up at you through the void-like eye slits in his mask. “Well go on, commend yourself. You have managed to turn the game around. And what will you do when I act on my overwhelming desire for you?”

“Oh my dearest,” you hum through a deviously sweet smile, settling your full weight into his lap where you straddle him. You're pleased to feel the payoff of your efforts as his clothed bulge presses against your core, and there's no question that your spell is taking effect as he flexes his hips to grind against you. “ _Some~times~_ Hades, all I want is for you to let go and pound me a little. But then you insist on making a _game_ of things and we end up in these situations." 

“Yes, well… you’re not far off from getting your wish,” he murmurs, one arm sliding around your waist to hold you in place as he continues his crude thrusting against your soaked smallclothes. Rational thought bleeds from your mind in favor of hazy lust, and it’s terribly tempting to let your desires run rampant and enjoy the consequences. But that would mean losing the game. Passion and pride war within you as you twist your fingers deeper into the fabric of his dark robes. Hades tilts his head toward you, seeking your lips. You turn your cheek, thinking to deny him as he denied you earlier, but the cool metal of sharp talons at the back of your neck insist that you reconsider. Surrendering, you let your eyes drift shut and slide your mouth against his, parting your lips to receive the tip of his tongue. Is it really losing when this is your reward? 

The hand at your neck rubs down your back and wanders further to your hip where the hem of your smallclothes rides low. Hades is giving away his growing impatience through little tells. His breath has grown heavier and uneven and his kiss becomes clumsy and distracted. His focus has become centered on ridding the barriers between you to achieve penetration. A razored claw snags under your lacy delicates and the fabric is sliced clean through with a snap of elastic. The backs of those talons tickle your mons pubis as Hades' hand moves to the opposite side of your hips and repeats the motion. He grips the now useless slip of cloth beneath you and _tugs_ it free, tossing it somewhere aside to leave you bared and wet in his lap. 

" _Go on_ , my dear" he urges in a rough voice. "Lift my skirts as you are so skilled at doing, and take what's yours."

He need not ask twice. Hades loosens his grip around your waist and immediately you sit back to pull the Ascian's robes up and over his hips to get at his leather pants. Like a nameday present you eagerly unwrap him, teasing the lacings out of their knot, loosening them enough to tug the opening wide. His cock is hard and thick in your small hands when you free him, throbbing with his near painful desire to feel you stretched so tightly around him. Hades leers as you shift above him, his talons tapping restlessly against the arms of the chair as he fights the urge to seize your hips and pull you down on his length himself. 

"There you are, darling. Do hurry," he huffs, "my patience will not last."

A delirious moan escapes you in your battle with the need to scratch that deep-seated itch, that agonizing craving to feel him brush up against your cervix as he bottoms out inside of you. You want it _so badly_ and yet your ego demands that you not give in. Tease him. Make him work for it. Make him _beg_. 

Hades props an elbow on the chair's arm and rests his cheek against his knuckles as he watches you squirm and struggle with the urge to submit, uttering encouraging words to 'help' you along. Be good and give in. Sit on his cock and he'll give you the 'pounding' you asked for. As if he might lull you with his voice alone. What a delightful _bastard_ he is. 

" _No_ ," you laugh, low and sultry. He reacts in an instant but you slide off of his lap before he can grab you. Smiling villainously you kneel and clamp down on his thighs as he leans forward, stopping him from gaining any leverage. You can't read his eyes behind the mask but he makes a show of growling his displeasure through bared teeth. 

"Don't look at me like that, my love," you sing-song, curling your slender fingers around his stiff length. "I know how _badly_ you want to bury yourself in me, but you don't deserve that quite yet."

You purposefully keep your touch too gentle as you stroke him, skin silky smooth under your fingers. He hisses and you don't miss the clench of his jaw or the fine line of restraint that he toes as his claws rake against the now abused arms of the chair. "You're going to leave gouges," you titter softly. Hades parts his lips but the words die on his tongue when you bat your eyelashes and peer up at him, nuzzling his prick with your cheek. "My poor Hades," you coo, flicking the tip of your tongue out to barely brush against him, "you would rather have my honey pot, wouldn't you? Maybe if you behave." The chair, you decide, will definitely be ruined by the night's end.

"Are you going to _torment_ me, darling?" he snarls, the term of endearment almost resentful. 

"Of course not. You know how I love you."

"You have such a way of showing it…"

"Hmm," you hum, pressing a kiss against the swell of his cock. "Shall I suck you a little? Take the edge off?"

"I won't _beg_ ," he grumbles. The slight lean in his posture suggests that if you don't act, he will take you to the floor and have his way with you. It's tempting, but he hasn't earned that yet.

"We'll see." One kiss. Two kisses. You exhale through your mouth, hot against his naked skin while pressing your lips here, there, accentuated with sounds of wet suction. Bracing his length against your palm you press firm with the rough flat of your tongue, bathing him with glistening saliva as you lick a stripe upward to the neck of his glans, teasing the prominent ridge with the tip of your nimble muscle. Does Hades realize that he’s blushing? The mask and the high collar hide it well, but you spy the creep of pink along the exposed parts of his face. 

“Aah…” you sigh, fluttering your lashes irresistibly, laving your tongue broadly down the length of him. He groans, fingertips pressing harshly into the chair despite his attempt to appear composed. A kiss at his base and then you bend lower to suck as much of his sack into the warmth of your mouth as you can manage, swirling your dripping tongue against the sensitive skin. Hades chokes above you as you tongue him. You feel his fingers dig into your hair, minding the talons, and let him slide slowly, wetly from your mouth before moving to the opposite side. You may break him at this rate, but then he should have known what he was getting himself into. 

"How does that feel?" you purr, pulling a moan from him as you glide your grip up his shaft. The precum that drips from his slit is telling, sticky and lubricating as you smear it across your palm and give him several slick pumps. When Hades' fingers tense against your scalp you expect him to force your mouth onto him, but instead he growls a command. 

"Take off your coat, darling. Let me look at you." He wants a show, does he?

His talons retract from your hair and you rock back on your ankles, releasing him to attend the buttons along your front. One, two… they pop open in sequence and you roll your shoulders back to tilt your breasts up. You’ve barely slipped the coat down to your elbows when Hades brusquely curls a claw under your bindings, cold against your sternum. The cloth parts effortlessly to allow your breasts to fall free. Hades cannot resist the urge to touch, cupping the soft flesh in his large hand. He flicks the smooth back of the talon at his thumb across your nipple, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Still wish to tease, my lovely Warrior?” he hums, gently circling the rosey bud with the warmth of his fingers and the cold metal of his claws. You can tell by the twitch of his lips that he's pleased by your body's responsiveness. The way your nipples peak under his touch. How you rub your thighs together in a failed attempt to soothe your arousal. "You already know how this is going to end. Stop fussing and just let me have you, dear."

Shrugging out of your coat you cast it aside, leaving you almost bared before Emet-Selch in his full Ascian attire. The short skirt does little to hide you from his gaze, and the thigh high stockings and boots are hardly an issue. You catch the hand that fondles your breast between both of yours, all buttery leather and hard metal. His palm is warm where you nuzzle your cheek against it, and though you playfully let those talons rake across your skin he is so careful not to scratch you. "Hold my hair back?" you tease, pushing his thighs wider apart as you settle into position over him. Before Hades can think to protest you've let the swollen tip of him push past your lips, threatening to take him as deep as you dare all at once. His hand snags in your long hair as he slides into your throat, the wind knocked out of him while you hold him for a heartbeat. It takes both of your small hands to cover his length when you draw back, tongue sliding wetly along the underside of him. You let him pop from between your lips as you suck over the tip of him, azure eyes flashing wickedly as you tilt your gaze up at him. "I hope you're up for tonight, love. I'm going to milk you dry."

"Don't keep me waiting then," he murmurs, and a thrill courses through you as the hand at the back of your head guides you insistently back onto his cock. He slides back into your mouth, thick and so hard, the salt and mild sweetness of his precum coating your tongue as you bob down on his shaft. It sends a fire through your belly as you take him deep once more, to be kneeled before the Ascian in submission while at the same time holding so much power over him. Hades strokes your head affectionately and utters low moans of appreciation, tells you what a good girl you are for him, how he'll never let you go. And then his aether is pressing into you, cool and dark, all encompassing with his desire to have all of you. The endearment and his heightened arousal buzz across the connection as violet twines with blue, stroking, caressing -- Hades coaxes you off of him and immediately hauls you up to capture your mouth, slick and needy. You wonder if he minds the taste of himself on your tongue or if he simply doesn't care. 

There's a hitch in his breath that tips you off just as Hades breaks his kiss, the hint of mischief on his lips before his aether coalesces around you, vine-like, and snares where it can find purchase. Your thighs, your waist, around your neck and wrists. Cool tendrils slither over your chest to curl around your breasts, squeezing and kneading as something thick brushes against your sex, dripping with his liquid essence. 

"You should know better than to challenge me, darling," he sighs, stroking the backs of his metal tipped fingers along your cheek. "Well, do continue. You're not finished yet."

You could fight against Hades. Resist. You're supposed to be making him _beg_. There is, however, a fuzziness at the edges of your aether where his caresses yours. Like a balm it soothes your drive to be disobedient, encourages you to be sweet for him. This must be the _enhancement_ that Hades made to your concept, you think. The slightest curl at the edges of his lips suggests that he knows very well what's running through your mind. You cast a warning look up at him but still lower your mouth again to his need, rewarded by a tingling at the base of your skull. Or that just may be the feather light touch of his talons as he pets you like the good wife that you are. He looks _so_ satisfied, propping his chin as he rests his elbow on the arm of the chair, watching you please him. Hades can be so _smug_ , but that's always been part of his charm in your eyes, hasn't it?

"When did you develop such an oral fixation?" he chuckles. _Jerk_. Perhaps you'll get him off quickly. It would serve him right. Bruise that ego a little, knowing how his stamina is something he peacocks about a bit too often. He certainly wouldn't be able to blame you for doing a good job. So you attend him as best as you are able, sucking and fondling, stroking and kissing, bobbing your head up and down in the rhythm that he likes. Hades' cock twitches against your tongue while he moans his pleasure, and you think you've got him. You couldn't be more wrong. 

That tendril between your thighs slides itself along the length of your sex, pressing in enough to part your folds and make sure that you _feel_ it. In your own state of sharpened lust it's enough to make your knees shake, and you don't miss the amused breath that Hades makes when you buck your hips back attempting to find further friction. It leaves you wet and almost sticky in its wake, not unlike… the thought has you groaning around the hardened flesh in your mouth before you can think better of it.

"What's wrong my dear? Are you feeling neglected?" Hades coos. At your muffled little whine he allows you another taste of what he's offering, slick and textured as it strokes against you, refusing however to push in where you need it. "My poor darling. I _did_ promise to take good care of you, didn't I?"

Your mouth pops off of his cock at the sudden pressure against your entrance. You had expected him to keep toying with you, but then you remember that Hades can _feel_ everything through these aetherial appendages. The thought of him filling you at both ends has you nearly drooling (or is that the concept at work?). Your moans are low and breathy as that tendril, thick and cool and slippery, presses against your sex. He's gentle about it, stretching you open slowly while your fingers dig into his thighs. Hades hisses at the way you clench around his manifested aether, sinking deeper until there's no more of you left to fill. The feeling of his essence seeping into you sends a rush of _want_ coursing through your veins, and he laughs above as you greedily swallow him once more. 

It doesn't take long to determine that Hades' phantom tentacles are responding directly to your enthusiasm. The dripping member between your thighs thrusts in tandem with the slide of his cock into your throat. You stroke and caress him and are repaid in kind with wet suction at your nipples and something tongue-like at your clit. It's maddening and your mind is so fuzzy and all you can focus on is the pleasure you can give to him and the way he reciprocates. It would be enough, but Hades has heard your earlier challenge and is now set on pushing your limits. 

"Shall we bring this to a climax, my love?" he asks. Before you even process the question you feel a shift in his aether, a crackling across your connection. Ecstasy wracks your body as you suck over the tip of him and you realize that Hades has created some sort of feedback loop. His gratification is being fed directly back to your aether, an act that leaves you trembling given how intimately you touch one another. It takes some effort in the fogged state of your mind but you press your essence back against his, blue bleeding into violet as you return the euphoria of your own pleasure unto him. Hades would have bucked his hips if you weren't holding him down and, smugly, you realize that it worked. Perhaps a bit too well. 

Hades growls and tugs at your hair in warning before he twitches against your tongue, and you slide back just slightly before several jets of his warm seed spatter thickly against the back of your throat. At the same time the tendril buried inside of you undulates and pulses his concentrated essence, cool and dark and liquid, directly into your core. You can feel it pooling, coating the inside of your womb until it spills over. What you can't hold leaks from your joining, the violet viscous substance making a mess of your thighs. It's more than you can handle. Your body strains in the hold of Hades' aether as you writhe and shudder in the throes of release, letting your lover finally slip from your mouth as you cry your passions and your vision blacks out. 

How much time passes before you regain your senses? You're dimly aware of being held before you open your eyes. Hades has you laid across his lap, apparently not minding your ravished state. Anywhere his own aether touches him it simply evaporates. You would protest the unfairness of it but there's a terrible hunger from within, a craving for more of his essence as if you are starved for it. Hades, of course, is smirking as he watches you squirm about. 

"It would seem that my alterations have worked after all," he muses, drawing great amusement from your scowling. 

"Let me guess," you huff amidst your growing discomfort. "I'll need to get off more than once before this spell abates."

Hades scoffs at your theory. "Come now, that's not nearly lecherous enough. You know how I feel about you."

"Oh dearest, I really don't know what depths of depravity you've lowered yourself to," you grumble. "Please enlighten me."

That brings a playful smile to his lips. "It's not so complex, darling," and he leans in to whisper in your ear. "The more I come inside of you the worse your desires for me are going to get."

Even as you shiver at the idea you're battling the urge to slap him. Hades merely laughs at your dilemma. "Don't tell me you're cross about it after all of that earlier provocation," he taunts, and you start slightly as he rises, lifting you easily in his arms. 

"What now?" you ask, though you should know well enough what comes next. 

"You _did_ ask me to ravish you," Hades reminds you. "And I _did_ promise to give you anything you asked for."

Truly this is the only man to inspire love and ire in you in equal measure. Tempering may have added a bit of spice, but even the Hades of your memories did delight in getting under your skin only to smooth over your ruffled feathers with sweet words and fiery touches. He's still the person that you loved. The one person who knew your soul best, when to push and when to retreat, how to make your inner light shine the brightest while knowing how to draw out the darkest side of you. The one who you could always be yourself around. The one who refused to give up on you even after twelve thousand years apart. This soul who is now and forever more the match to your own. That's why you still reach for him after he's pressed all of your buttons. Maybe it's why you've never really connected with any other lover. 

"You are absolutely--"

"Insufferable. I know," he shrugs. He tilts his head to kiss your temple but you seize him by the collar of his hood, crushing your mouth to his. Yes, you _did_ ask for all of him, and you intend to get it. If the way he tightens his hold on you is any hint, he’s promising to grant your wish, and then some. It’s an easy choice to surrender yourself to his debauchery and let him do what he will. 

\----------------------------------------

You wake with a groan feeling as if you've been run over by a herd of chocobos. When you manage to crack your eyes open you find yourself nested among the blankets in bed, alone, with no memory of how you got here. And then last night comes back to you in flashes. 

Hades, bending you over that chair and taking you from behind, his sharp claws tickling the expanse of your back while you grasped wherever your hands could find purchase. Being knelt before a mirror -- you can't recall where in the apartment you'd seen it before -- and pulled back into his lap, those claws at your neck, making sure you watched the way his cock slid into your body over and over again. You, laying twitching and breathless with the unholy mixture of his seed and that sticky dark aether coating your thighs and pooled below you on the floor while those aetherial tendrils bound and caressed your body. God, you had wanted him to claim you. He made sure you knew who you belonged to.

"...Hades?" you croak. Your mouth feels dry and your throat raw. Heat builds in your face as you can imagine the fright you must have given the poor Shades with your screams. 

Your eyes shift to the doorway to find the man there, no longer in the Ascian's robes or hidden behind the mask of Emet-Selch. Back to the Emperor's face and regalia. He gazes at you fondly. _He'd better_ , as sore as you feel. 

"I wondered how long you would sleep in," he half laughs, moving to join you in bed. Hades lazily stretches out beside you before pulling you close, blankets and all, to cradle you against him. 

"What the hell did you do to me?" you rasp, burying your face into the downy fur trim of his coat. "I feel like I can hardly move." That gets a snort from him, _wonderful_ , you've managed to boost his already overinflated ego.

"Did I not give you what you wanted?" he goads you, knowing what the answer will be (your exasperated groan). "Was I too rough with you, darling?" You purr contentedly at the silken caress of his gloved fingers stroking your jawline, and shift to wrap an arm around his waist. 

"...Mmm, it was good at the time. I'm paying for it now," you wince, comically, which shifts to a happy little smile as Hades presses a kiss to your forehead. Without needing to ask his aether is already reaching to embrace and heal you, a pleasant coolness that spreads through your body as tired muscles are rejuvenated. "Though, about that concept…"

"You're going to accuse me of perversity," he states, wholly accepting of the sentiment. 

"Well, yes. When did you become so lewd?"

"My dear, need I remind you of _the list_ I've tailored for you?" he laughs. Ah, yes. You seem to remember such a thing. "I may have added some items in anticipation of our eventual reunion."

"You better not have used it on anyone else," you grumble into his coat, tightening your hold around him. 

"I promise, it was designed especially for you, darling. You know how I love to make you depraved for me," he laughs with a dark note, his own embrace around you hardening. "After all, I needed _something_ to do with my pining for you over the long millenia."

"Oh, my dearest Hades," you soothe, tilting your face to kiss the corner of his mouth. "I'm here again, and you know that I will not leave your side."

"No, you won't," he agrees. You choose to ignore it, and lay your head against his shoulder with a sigh. Perhaps now is the time to have that talk. 

"Varis is dead," you say. The words can't be taken back now. A moment passes and you can feel Hades tense, though almost indiscernible. 

"Dead," he repeats, and laughs sardonically. "A disappointment until his last breath," he mutters. "How?"

"...Zenos." 

He doesn't respond. After a moment you lift your head and see that he has his jaw clenched. It makes you anxious. He knows as well as you do what fate befell the Garlean prince.

"I-I don't know how but his soul came _back_ and reclaimedhis body from Elidibus. He killed Varis and left the Empire to fend for itself."

"You're tense."

"I'm--?"

Hades shifts so that he faces you, a stern look upon his face. "When you speak of the boy your aether pales."

So you're to have this conversation now as well? "Hades, I don't…" You're searching his eyes for something, you're not sure of what, but they've gone hard and cold. _Emet-Selch worked so hard to set the stage._ You spent much of your time as the Warrior of Light warring with the Garlean empire, undoing years of Hades' painstaking work. Now you've told him that his Empire lay in ruins, and he would press you further to air your grievances against his great-grandson? Is this why Elidibus made you the messenger, knowing it would put you in such an uncomfortable position? 

"What stalls your tongue? Speak."

"...Fine. Let me tell you of the _abomination_ that you created." Anger flashes behind your eyes as memories flood back, images you'd buried and tried to move on from. "When I met Zenos he broke his sword cutting me open from stem to stern. It's a miracle that I didn't die that day, and a greater blessing that I'm not left with a physical reminder. When Zenos learned that I survived he decided that I was worthy of becoming his prey, and he stalked me throughout an entire war. Our battles were fierce."

You're trembling, but is it from fury or fear?

"I watched him _die_!" you cry. "And the worst part -- as awful as he was, I felt _sorry_ for him!"

Without thinking you grab the lapels of Hades' coat and shake him. Glare at him. Growl.

"He called me his ' _friend'_! God, I fought so hard with him. And if I had lost… I'm not sure that he would have killed me. I would have ended myself before--"

With a snarl Hades lashes out, lightning quick, and takes you to the mattress. Have you ever seen him so angry? Not in the form of Solus, at any rate. He rips the sheets away leaving you exposed before him. The silk of his gloved fingers trace from the hollow of your throat to your navel as he studies your skin, but it's as you've told him. There's no mark left behind by Zenos's strike. 

Or so you thought. In the next moment Hades seems to be looking right through you, but you know that it's your soul he sees. And then he finds what he's searching for. The wound has long since healed over and diminished, but the scar hasn't faded entirely. A hairsbreadth of a fracture, the most delicate hint of gold streaked throughout a field of blue. He's seething, but something about that breeds outrage in your chest. 

"No. You have no right," you hiss, trying to shove him off of you. "Your Empire. Your _bloodline_! The only reason he exists is because--!" 

"Don't you _dare_!" Hades spits. The blaze in his eyes is feral. "He's not _my blood_. Those wretched broken _things_ are not _mine_! Pathetic mortal husks born from a mockery of life!"

"And _who_ orchestrated their conception, Hades!?" You're shouting at each other now. God, why can't you stop? It's as if a dam has burst. "Or do you mean to tell me that it wasn't _you_ when Solus lay with his Empress?"

" _I had no choice_!" He releases your wrists to grip at his hair, shaking in his rage. "Do you think I _wanted_ her? Do you think I _cared_ about any of them?"

For some reason _that_ , of all things, breaks through your veil of anger. "You didn't care for your own children?" 

"I…" It seems to have an equal effect on Hades, snapping him out of his anger. He's quiet for a long time before he speaks, with all of his burdens laid bare in his voice. "I tried. I wouldn't have looked twice, but when I saw that child newly born I could almost hear your sweet voice telling me to try."

Hades sits back on his ankles and lets you up. The frenetic energy has been robbed from the moment. He's staring into his upturned palms as if he might find some answer scribbled there, but there's nothing. 

"I couldn't do it. So frail and sorry they were. When he died it shattered any illusions that I had let myself indulge in. I carried on with my duties as my Lord commanded, but there was no affection on my part. It was all a means to an end. To resurrect Zodiark. To restore our Star and our people."

"Oh, Hades… even a child couldn't ease your loneliness?"

You reach out to comfort him but your words reignite his temper. He seizes you by the shoulders and forces you to look at him, grief and ire made plain. "They weren't yours!" he cries. His aurum eyes shine with wetness. "It wasn't the life that you and I thought we would… God, Persephone! If it wasn't you then nothing mattered!"

He doesn't even realize what he's said, but it pierces your heart like a dagger. Rather than continue to reach for Hades you instead pull the sheets up around yourself and turn away from him. _Persephone_. That was your name once, when the world was whole. It isn’t your name _now_. 

Hades must have realized his slip, because he calls you by name -- _your_ name. It’s a bit late for that. He rests his hands on your shoulders but you shrug them off, feeling warm liquid pool behind your eyelids. He tries again and you attempt to shrink in on yourself, for the little good it does.

“Don’t,” you mutter, cursing the wobble in your voice. His fingertips brush against your back but he doesn’t press further, halted by the venom in your tone. 

“Why do you reject me?” he pleads. The desperation and the hurt in his voice are clear. It stirs guilt in your chest, but what about how _you’re_ feeling?

“Am I just a placeholder for her?” you ask, sounding pitiful. Maybe Elidibus was right. Maybe you _are_ just a trophy. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You called me ‘Persephone’, but I’m not--you said it yourself. I asked before if I was her, and you said that I’m not.”

It takes Hades a moment to rack his brain, mad to discern what you’re talking about. Beneath Amaurot, in that cavern. Before Zodiark... _You’re not her_. “That’s not what--”

“You would never lie to me, right?” you laugh cynically. “And even if you did, you said I wouldn’t know any better.” 

Even when he’s played at being a threat to you, Hades has bowed to your whims and minded his physicality. Not this time. His arms lock around you, strong and unyielding as he hauls you into his lap. Your attempt to struggle is paltry at best, and eventually you are resigned to be held in his almost crushing embrace. You press your face into his neck as if it will stem the tears that threaten to spill from your eyes. He tenses at the wetness against his skin.

“Did _Elidibus_ place these doubts in your mind?” he rasps. If you were to say ‘yes’ you have no doubt that Hades would immediately set out to murder the Emissary. His aether is volatile, practically sparking. 

“It’s not Elidibus. It’s what you’ve been telling me all along.” Why bother to hold back? You have nothing to lose by voicing your troubles, and so the words spill forth like a flood. “I’m just a part of the puzzle, right? Nine fourteenths of the woman you long for, conveniently bound to your side while you seek out the remaining shards. And once you’ve found them all, what will become of me? You’ll have your Persephone back and I… will I cease to exist? Are these memories merely borrowed? I don’t… I don’t want to lose myself. I--”

“ _You_ have nothing to fear,” Hades rumbles, pressing the gentlest of kisses against your forehead. “You are of the Source. You have always been the core, the truest essence of who you once were. The fragments of your soul, scattered across the remaining shards, are all facets of _your_ personality. You absorbed your fragment here without a Rejoining -- did you notice any change?”

Ardbert. Though he had been doomed to exist as a spectre he was still his own person, until he sacrificed himself to become one with you. Hades is right. After you took Ardbert into yourself you didn’t lose who you were. “I don’t… I don’t think so.”

“Are you certain? You were prepared to turn tail and flee… and after, you stood your ground to fight against two of the Unsundered. Silly as it was.” He can’t help the soft laugh that escapes him as he nuzzles his cheek into your hair. Is that true? You know that joining with Ardbert increased your power, but was that all?

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Hades reassures you. “The change wouldn’t be that overt. You may find that your spirits are a bit lighter from day-to-day, or you may be sleeping in more often than ‘normal’.”

You consider this, but it’s hard to say. “I don’t know. I don’t know what ‘normal’ _is_ anymore. One moment I’m the Warrior of Light and you’re my enemy, and next you’re claiming to be my husband from another lifetime a-and…” You’re thankful that he can’t see the quivering of your bottom lip. “And suddenly I have all of these _memories_ except for the parts that seem to matter the most, and--”

Hades shushes you and rocks you gently. It’s a little embarrassing, you’re not a child. Still, it keeps you from bursting into tears, so you let him carry on. He’s not quite crushing you any longer, but he isn’t letting go either.

“I know what I said before, but listen to me now. You _are_ Persephone. You always have been, and always will be. But--” 

You brace yourself, fearing what might come next. This could still fall apart. 

“I can see the differences between then and now. Some changes are inevitable. Your life as a mortal hardened you into a Warrior. You’ve become so strong, my dearest woman.” His lips are soft as they brush over your nose, press against your cheeks. “There are things missing, or perhaps you merely haven’t shown them to me yet. You’re not as… ‘ _whimsical_ ’ as you used to be.”

Well, that dries your eyes. “Wh-what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“It’s intended with the utmost affection, believe me darling.” Hades has lapsed back into endearments, and you find that most of your fears have been smoothed over. There are still questions that linger.

“I suppose I’ll be ‘whimsical’ again when I’ve recovered the rest of my soul. But Hades,” you start, “the fragment that I absorbed here… they were an entire person. They… they _died_ to rejoin with me. I can’t just--”

“You’re as sweet as you always were,” he sighs, shifting you slightly in his hold. “I know how your time among mortals has made you sentimental. You must realize that they are not true lifeforms. Your remaining shards are facets of your soul that have been given human form by Hydaelyn, but they are merely _pretending_. It is _your_ essence that sustains them. They’re not autonomous beings.”

“Maybe I _am_ soft,” you admit. “I… I’ll trust your word.”

“Will you forgive me, then?” Hades prods gently. “If it vexes you to be called ‘Persephone’ then I shall try to refrain, but if I should slip again…” He shakes his head. “For me that has always been your name. It’s what comes naturally, but if it pains you…”

“It’s alright,” you decide. “I’m just… I guess I’m still reconciling my past life with the one I’ve been living for the last twenty five years. I keep thinking that once I’ve recovered the rest of my soul, well… Anyhow, I won’t get mad anymore. I promise.”

“Thank Zodiark,” he whispers as you settle in against him. Something wet splashes against your collarbone, and you blink. They’re tears, but they’re not yours. “If I had to lose you now… If you should ever reject me--” He shakes his head and clutches you tight before his body shudders against yours. “Then kill me. Zodiark won’t let me die as long as He remains imprisoned. If there comes a time when you cannot stand to be near me any longer then at least promise you won’t make me suffer alone.”

It takes some maneuvering, but eventually you’re able to wiggle free enough to slip your arms around him. You can still feel warm droplets slip along the line of your back as you hold him close, resting your head on his shoulder, but his breathing is steady. “Don’t ask me to kill you, dearest. How about I promise instead that I won’t leave you alone? And one day… we can have the life we wanted, right?”

It’s some time before Hades speaks again, but when he does his voice is low and dangerous. “If that’s your promise then you understand what comes with it. If _anyone_ \-- be it the boy, the Scions, or otherwise -- try to stand between us…”

“You’ll kill them.” Of course he will. “I won’t cry for them.”

“Yes you will,” he taunts. Maybe. Just a little.

“Then I suppose you’ll have to deal with it,” you huff. “Are we done fighting now?”

Hades considers this for a moment. “Why? Are you proposing something?” Well, you both know that neither of you is really in the mood for _that_. Not just yet.

“Perhaps. I’ve been thinking…” you say. When Hades draws back to look at you it’s with measured caution, but the mischievous little twist of your lips is all the reassurance that he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are a writer and/or enjoy FFXIV fics, come join a very friendly and enabling group: https://discord.gg/ftFnYbe
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @AzureSummoner


	2. Back to the Source

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a task that Hades would see done before the Rejoining of the First resumes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really fought me. Then some bad things happened in a short time, and life was a bit rough for a few weeks. But it's better now.
> 
> If you feel inclined, please drop a comment and let me know what you think. I have the entire story outlined at this point, so hopefully it will flow from here. I hope you enjoy where this goes. <3

The only fighting you’re good for, you think, is the sort that takes place on the field of battle with a weapon in hand -- not that which requires trading barbed words. Alphinaud was better at that; but he’s not here. And you doubt he’d feel inclined to meddle in your personal matters, particularly between you and your bonded.

Hades doesn’t seem keen on the subject, either. Not when you’re his opponent -- and last night’s argument certainly set you at odds. He ripped the scab off of a wound you’d thought long healed, and in return you plunged a dagger into his heart.

Even the most devoted of partners quarrel from time to time, he’d assured you. Then he’d gone on to bandage your hurts while bleeding out from his own. Chaste kisses, whispered apologies, and promises to do better. He refused to criticize you for anything you’d said, which didn’t seem right. Something simmered below the surface, something unresolved. What had he said as you stood before that statue, when his tongue had slipped and he’d laid his soul bare?

_I have been forced to live for an eternity without you. You left me behind for your wretched Mother._

At some point he’d managed to fall asleep, but you couldn’t quiet your racing thoughts. You wandered off to the living room to stare out over the fabricated city while sorting them out. 

You felt terrible for the things you’d said, spurred on by anger and jealousy. It made you sick in your soul. The memories you’d recovered were of a happy life together, so what had gone wrong? You knew the basics -- that you, the Fourteenth of the Convocation, had opposed Zodiark's summoning, and left. But what about the rest? What _exactly_ had taken place? Why did you abandon Hades, and what happened at the very end, when Hydaelyn struck Her decisive blow?

Thinking about it, or attempting to, rather, made your head hurt.

If you felt so inclined -- which you didn't -- you might ask Elidibus. But there was another, wasn't there? The person you had left, cold and lonely without you. It occurred to you that he'd normally come to find you if you'd been missing too long. Unless he thought you'd wandered off because you couldn't bear to be near him after your argument. 

When you crept back into bed you knew that Hades was awake -- despite his attempt to pretend otherwise. He had his back turned to you, so you let him keep up the ruse -- for a short time. Then you pressed yourself into him until he relented, finally turning over to embrace you. 

It was your turn to assure him, with whispered apologies and devotions. And after a session of languid lovemaking, it seemed that neither of you were returning to sleep anytime soon, so you stayed up into the early hours spilling your thoughts. Most bothersome among them was the subject of your ancient, tattered memories. Everything recovered had been through association; you saw Emet-Selch, and you recalled his true name. He brought you to Amaurot, and you remembered walking those streets together. 

He’d finally cleared out whatever abominations he’d raised in the Akadaemia, and shown you his memory of Halmarut’s laboratory. You’d been the botanist’s star pupil, a fact that had much to do with your later rise to the Convocation.

That’s where your memories fade.

You’ve regained others, provided that Hades has supplied the right stimuli; but you lack those that would let you put your world into some sort of frame. Without knowing your own experiences of the end times, you feel as though you’re merely imitating the resolve of your kin to carry out the Ardor. That you aren’t entirely the partner that Hades needs.

But you try, starting with your thoughts to salvage the Rejoining of the First. And Hades neither laughs, nor scoffs, or criticizes; he listens. 

*****

He’s in an amorous mood the next morning. You’re not sure of the occasion, but you sense that something is on his mind. He won’t tell, no matter how you poke or prod. The most he’ll say is that he wants to ‘go somewhere’ that you would like.

“Is this a date?” you tease. He doesn’t say ‘no’.

So you take him by the hand -- and it hits you all at once. No one has ever asked to simply ‘go somewhere’ with you, not without conditions. No one has ever been free to travel with you on a whim, or share in your adventures. All have been bound by duty or homeland, always placing obligation above their desire to be with you.

Not Hades. He sabotaged a Rejoining for you. 

"If you continue to hold me so tightly, I fear this vessel will expire," he laughs. The affection that pours from his soul is warm; it's so warm. You're never going to let him go. Why did you ever let him go? 

"Let's go to Il Mheg," you decide. You want to feel the sun on your skin, and the wind in your hair. You want to lay him down among the flowers, and talk about whatever aimless things pass through your mind. And you want to solidify your plans to rejoin the First; for then you will focus on the next shard to be made one. The next piece of your soul to reclaim, the next step toward becoming whole. 

“You're practically buzzing. What makes you so happy, my dearest?” he hums, stroking the back of your neck.

"You do," you sigh. For the first time that you can remember, you feel that you're where you belong.

*****

Il Mheg is beautiful. Of all the locales you’ve explored on the First, no other comes close to its majesty. The wind is honey sweet from fields of pink flowers, and lush greenery spreads as far as the eye can see, beneath a sky painted with rainbows. Of course, Lakeland is a sight to behold in a fever dream sense, periwinkle forests in the shadows of the Crystal Tower. But _this…_

“Enjoying yourself?”

Hades’ voice stirs you from your reverie, bringing you back to the present. He combs through your hair with his long fingers while you sit between his legs, shaded by twisting trees topped with cotton candy blooms. An empty bottle of wine and an equally empty pair of glasses rest beside you on the soft blanket, along with his discarded gloves.

“Just thinking.” The purr in your ear encourages you to elaborate. “I remember my garden. The one that I grew after moving in with you, on the terrace. You gave me the space and told me to fill it with as many plants as I could fit.”

“I had so little to offer you,” he smiles. “A pathetic man, really. I cannot comprehend how I captured your interest; but full glad I am for it.”

“You offered me everything you had,” you sigh happily. Every brush against your scalp sends pleasant tingles down your spine, though you notice that he periodically pauses with your hair pinched between his fingers. “What’s wrong? Do I have split ends?”

“Hmm? ‘Tis nothing. Carry on.”

“Uh huh.” You’re not convinced. “Wasn’t it a lovely garden? We made it together --”

“I’ll stop you there. I merely created ornaments; the gazebo, and your tea setting. My brown thumb was worthless to you.”

“If you hadn’t slept through Halmarut’s classes, you might have learned a thing or two.”

“But then I wouldn’t have had the convenient excuse to call on you for private lessons,” he smirks. “Though you foiled my every attempt to move on you, however accidentally.” He huffs, his nostalgia carrying an undercurrent of lament.

“What’s the matter?” You tilt your head back to look at him.

“Old regrets. What a cowardly man I was, unable to confess my heart’s desires. How much time was lost while I held my tongue, secretly longing for your love?” He resumes stroking his fingers through your hair, a bit of a sour smile on his face. “If I’d not been such a fool, I might have had more time with you, back then.”

He struggles to put words to his emotions, as much now as he did then. You don’t need words to understand his turmoil; your singular gift of empathy lends itself to his ache. Guilt for things left unspoken, feelings unresolved. Questions that will never be answered. _What if I had done things differently? If I had been a moment sooner? Would I have changed the outcome? Did they know how I felt?_

He kisses the top of your head, interrupting your thoughts. “You needn’t worry,” he soothes, as if he’s read your mind. It occurs to you that he can; read your soul, that is. You fall back against his chest in dramatic fashion, twisting sideways in his embrace to lay your head upon his shoulder. In the distance, Lyhe Ghiah spreads its wings over Longmirror Lake, beneath the setting sun. 

“Were you watching as I journeyed through these lands?” you ask. It wasn’t until you’d returned to the Crystarium, after slaying Titania, that Hades had revealed himself as Emet-Selch.

“Every step of the way.” Your brow wrinkles comically.

“Then were you aware of the Kojin’s blessing? Or would you have let the Fuath drown me?”

“I had complete faith in your abilities. _Had_ you been remade as a frog, I would have come to your rescue. It only requires a kiss. Isn’t that how the story goes?”

He snorts at your grumbled response. You have no inclination to deal with the fae folk during this outing; this is time for you. This spot you’ve chosen is far enough from both Dohn Mheg and Lydha Lran that you expect to be left in peace. Just you and Hades, his fingers once more in your hair -- 

“There you go, again. What in Zodiark’s name are you _doing_?” you complain. “No one has scrutinized my hair so much since the last time I saw Jandelaine.”

That gives him pause. “Do I want to know who that is?”

“Surely you’ve heard of Eorzea’s famed Aesthetician?”

“Surely I have not,” he replies, dryly. “Though if you’re not adverse to the idea --”

“I’m not cutting my hair,” you retort, getting an inkling of what he has in mind. He fluffs your tresses as if they might stick out, and twists his lips when they simply fall back into place.

“It would look rather comely on you --” he counters, only to be met with your resolute denial.

“Everywhere I turn there is some man, beast, or plant attempting to singe my coat, sharpen their claws on my back, or douse me in acid. It’s enough of a challenge to keep my hair intact, let alone maintain some semblance of style. Particularly the way I wore it back then.”

“Too bad,” he sighs theatrically. “I found the look rather charming.”

“I can’t imagine that you suggested this outing to lobby me for a haircut,” you taunt, spying an opportunity to pry into his real intentions. 

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“I feel the tension in your hands.” He scowls at that. “Well, are you going to tell me what’s been on your mind?”

“I suppose there will be no ‘ideal’ time to raise the matter,” he murmurs. His posture hardens, and his aurum eyes are laden with gravity. You wiggle from his hold to turn and face him fully, giving him your undivided attention. Hades takes your hands in his, and watches. He’s watching your soul for a reaction.

“I am… I’m going to make you whole,” he announces.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in -- and then you relax, with a long exhale.

“I know you will,” you assure him. But he pulls you close, and he holds you so tightly --

“ _Now_.”

Your eyes widen; but your vision narrows. Your lips move, but no sound comes forth. Every thought, every possibility grinds to a halt as you attempt to pick over his intent. “H--How?” 

He knows that you’ve absorbed Ardbert. You’re capable of rejoining with your fragments without need of a calamity. But you’re merely nine-fourteenths of an Amaurotine soul; five shards remain scattered across reflections of the Source. They are dimensions apart, and though you are capable of traversing the Rift intact, you require an anchor. An aetheryte will serve well enough, but the initial journey is the problem; had the Exarch not spirited you to the First, you know not how you might have reached this star to begin with.

And if -- no, _when_ \-- you reach the next shard, how does he propose to locate your missing piece? For all you know, it was a chance encounter that brought you and Ardbert together. There is an entire _world_ to comb in search of yourself -- and you must do this, five times over. Even with Hades’ _sight_ , your shards may as well be needles in a haystack.

“How?” you repeat. Your eyes dart about; to his lips, his fingers at your shoulders, the grass bending in the breeze. You can’t meet his eyes, not yet. Not until he catches your chin and forces you to look.

His gaze has softened. “We start from the beginning.”

“And where is that?”

“Why, at the Source.” He smiles, until you wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion.

“Yes, but, the source of what?”

“The Source, my dear.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes, a stupid grin spreading across his face as his play on words slips straight past you. 

“ _The Source_ , darling. Hydaelyn! Oh, you silly thing -- !” 

You blush, latching onto the meaning. You’re not dense; you’re _not_. But he can’t talk about ‘beginnings’ and ‘sources’ and expect you to immediately think of the star and not the _start_. He looks entirely ridiculous, the way he grins at you, but something has sparked in his soul. Hope, and love, and --

A shift in the ambient aether. You feel it before you see the motes of light swirling about in the air. Realization dawns before their disembodied voice reaches your ears, and all at once there is a great burst of light, angry and red.

“Careless! Cruel! _Heartless_!”

Wings beat the air in agitated strokes -- the great wings of Titania. You’ve never seen Feo Ul so cross.

“Worried sick we’ve been. _Sick_! Our sapling went missing without a trace, and here we find you under our nose!?”

Hades’ fingers tighten at your waist; he likely knows of the fae King, but asking him to tolerate their presence for long would be nothing short of miraculous. Avoiding a conflict would be preferable, you think, so you pull from his embrace and rise to your feet, spreading your arms in gesture.

“Hello, Feo Ul. I’m hale and whole, as you can see.”

“Mmph! What we see --” They advance, immediately in your face; it nearly knocks you off balance. “What’s happened to your aether?”

“What about it?”

“All of the Light has --” They catch you by the chin, tilting your head this way and that. “And your lovely soul is --! Is _this_ why we’ve been unable to find you? Did you not _once_ think to call us for help!?”

You realize, more than a little belatedly, that their pact would have allowed them to fly to your side at any time. In hindsight, it does seem quite strange that they hadn’t appeared on your doorstep in Amaurot after you left the Scions. Perhaps Zodiark severed your connection. Thinking about this makes your head hurt.

“How did you find me?” you think to ask.

“We have searched tirelessly, at the Crystal Exarch’s request. We have kept our eyes on all of Il Mheg in hopes that our sapling would appear.” You spy movement in the trees; a half dozen pixie eyes peer back. 

Feo Ul bares teeth, gesturing wildly at Hades with their staff. 

“And you -- thief! _Kidnapper_!” they snarl. “We’ve heard all about this filthy, _nasty_ man. We shall return you to your friends, right after we punish this --” 

“I tire of the present company,” he yawns, lazily rising to his feet. He pulls on his gloves as if he’s hardly bothered, and reaches for your hand. “Come. Let us away.”

“You’re not taking our sapling. You’ll answer to the full wrath of the fae for --”

“We’re leaving, Feo Ul,” you assert, taking Hades’ hand. “I’ll be your opponent if you try to stop us.” 

“You would raise your hand against _us_!?” they shriek. The air crackles around them; if you remain, there _will_ be a battle. You sense a tension across the land, as if all of Il Mheg has answered a summons. You imagine that the sum of its people will converge on you at any moment. Hades knows this; you feel his aether pull at you, as if to say ‘this isn’t the time’.

“I’ll do what I must. You won’t take Emet-Selch from me.”

Some emotion stills their hand. Fear? Shock? You aren’t sure, and it doesn’t really matter. Feo Ul’s hand is held by _something_ as you’re guided into darkness. The horrified light in their eyes in the last thing you glimpse before being swallowed by shadow.

*****

Some time later, back in Amaurot, you wake from a light slumber. You’re draped across the length of a leather sofa, your back pressed against Hades’ side. He’s fiddling with a pair of glasses that you don’t recall seeing before. A pile of notes and diagrams lay scattered across the coffee table.

You’d made your complaints earlier about Feo Ul spoiling your ‘date’. He’d laughed, and pointed out that you weren’t carrying a weapon when you challenged the fae King. 

_“You seem pleased,” you’d said._

_“You would fight to protect me?” he asked in return. A blush crept across your face as you recalled your words. Of course, you would, you mumbled in reply, and he’d kissed the crown of your head. “You need not fight on my behalf, much as I appreciate the sentiment. Let me be the one to protect you, from now on.”_

_You weren’t sure how to respond to that; because no one had ever offered. No one was capable of such a feat. Not before now._

“Pay attention, would you?” he chides gently, offering those glasses to you. “You’ll need to keep these safe when you return to the Source.”

You hiccup in embarrassment, realizing that he’s been speaking of his plans all this time, while you’ve been wandering in your thoughts. With a sheepish grin you tilt your eyes up to his and ask that he start over.

“I should punish you for such insolence,” he teases, lifting his arm that you may crawl beneath to curl up against him. 

“What are these for?” you ask, taking the spectacles in hand. A simple, yet elegant design. He never was one to half-ass his work. “Don’t tell me that Varis cloned the Emperor’s failing vision.” That earns a snort. 

“We shall make for the Aetherial Sea, where I’ll have need of them. I imagine that even my _sight_ should suffer amidst that amount of aetherial activity. These will allow me to focus.”

“The Sea?” You frown. “Why are we going there? Do you mean to confront Hydaelyn?”

“You’re familiar with it?”

“Familiar enough. I traveled there in search of a companion who had been lost to the lifestream, like Y’shtola. Except this one had been seized by Hydaelyn, and remade into --”

“The Word of the Mother.” He nods, smirking. “Mayhaps I should thank the wretched Mothercrystal during our venture. She’s made our work that much easier; more’s the pity for Her.”

“How do you mean?”

“If my theory proves correct, we shall find the last pieces of your soul held captive in the Sea.”

It takes the wind from you; to think that what you seek could have been so close at hand, all of this time. “And how did you come by this theory?” you gasp, your thoughts shooting in a hundred different directions.

“Ah. The idea came to me upon learning that you’d rejoined with your fragment here. This is hardly the first reflection I’ve visited; but it _is_ the first where I’ve found one of your shards, however indirectly.” He shifts sideways to face you. This habit of his is quite familiar by now. He’s watching you for signs of stress. 

“You must understand that the continual cycle of rebirth has dramatic consequences; it thins the soul, weakens its constitution.”

“And the Rejoinings have been accelerated -- to save those souls, while there is still something left to save?”

“Something like that, yes. And at every Rejoining there is a champion of Hydaelyn who would stand against the Ascians -- a Warrior of Light. Or rather, _you_.”

“Me?” you blink. Yes, Ardbert had been considered a Warrior of Light; but he’d had companions, other Warriors of Light, which had nothing to do with you. And there are others chosen by Hydaelyn -- Krile, Minfilia, Arenvald…

“Yes, you. In hindsight, I see why I failed -- your fragments were slain before I had the chance to locate them.”

That’s unsettling to consider. Your hand wanders to your neck, as you ponder the deaths of your fragments. Hades leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Everything is alright. Allow me to continue.” You nod in agreement, and he waits until you’ve settled down before speaking again.

“For every star rejoined to the Source, a Warrior of Light has fallen. Provided that each Warrior was one of your fragments, and given the quality of your soul --”

“What about my soul?”

“You’ve been spared the cycle of rebirth. Hydaelyn has not allowed your soul to walk the lands before now, not your core fragment. I know; for I’ve looked for you on the Source, all of this time.”

“You mean that She held me in the Sea until I needed to fight?”

“Precisely, though I can only guess as to why. As one of the Convocation, you were among the most influential souls on the star. You weren’t claimed by Zodiark; She may have seized you in hopes that you might stand against us some day.”

You shake your head, unable to remember any of it. “So my slain fragments were rejoined with my core. And the rest are being held in the Aetherial Sea?”

“Until such time that they are needed. As the next reflection is prepped for Rejoining, I assure you that Hydaelyn will raise one of your shards.”

“Unless we take them first,” you finish, looking at Hades' growing smile. “I don’t understand. Given the First’s flow of time, Ardbert died a century ago. Why did Hydaelyn allow his spirit to remain? Why not return him to the Sea, or birth a new Warrior of Light?”

“Isn’t that explained by your ‘Minfilia’?” he asks. “She must have known that he was your shard, and furthermore, that you would someday journey to the First. She left him to wait for your arrival.”

“Knowing that I would need the help to defeat you.”

“Ah. Instead, she’s granted us the key to restoring your soul.”

“And the means to revive the Flood,” you agree. “If Hydaelyn still had the means to speak, I wonder what She might say of it?”

“I care not.”

“What of Elidibus?” you ponder.

“Fuck Elidibus,” he scowls. “After his blunder, he should know well enough to stay out of my way for a time.”

“Feo Ul has the ability to travel to the Source,” you continue. “They conveyed messages to the Scions in Mor Dhona after I arrived on the First. They must have relayed a message of my ‘disappearance’ by now.”

“Surely you know how to wear a disguise.”

“That will get us past Ishgard, but the entrance to the Sea is through the Antitower -- which is guarded by Matoya, a woman keen on aetherial research. She won’t let us waltz in to do as we please.”

“Would you be more at ease if I allow her to live?” 

“Do you still think I'm that soft?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Dearest, I _know_ that you are still soft,” he laughs. “‘Tis nothing to fret over.”

“So that’s it?” you ask, staring down at your upturned palms. “We go to the Source, and I’ll be…”

“Have I rushed this?” he considers, taking a softer approach. “You’ve had your doubts. If you’re not ready, now would be the time to --”

You shake your head. “No. Let’s do this. Let’s go to the Source.”

“You’re certain?”

“As certain as I’ll ever be,” you decide. You extend your soul to him, and something in his eyes relaxes. There aren’t words enough for the depths to which you trust him, but he feels it through your bond. 

“Then let us depart on this grand adventure,” he smiles. And you know that at long last, here is someone who will share in your journeys, forevermore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are a writer and/or enjoy FFXIV fics, come join a very friendly and enabling group: https://discord.gg/ftFnYbe
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @AzureSummoner


	3. Toward the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and the fallen Warrior return to the Source, making their way toward the Aetherial Sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with writing this chapter. Not sure why it fought me so hard. Sorry for such a delay. I hope it isn't too bad. :sweat:

Ishgard’s clime is as cold as you remember, the bitter wind biting through your heavy cloak. A light snow drifts on the wind, small flakes sticking to the cowl drawn around your face. The citizens are already bustling about despite the early morning hour. These days you find more nobles mingling among the common folk: to market, to the Firmament, to get lost in their cups. Your mind briefly flits to how much has changed since the Dragonsong War, and Aymeric’s ascension to the House of Lords. A lifetime ago, your heart would have quickened as you stepped through Ishgard’s gates, knowing that someone here waited for you. 

Now you wait for Hades. The aetherial spectacles tucked inside of your clothing weigh heavily against your breast, as does his gift at your hip — Epikairekakia.

He’d created the grimoire, imbued with his own aether, to enhance your own. Though you could barely pronounce the name, he merely grinned and insisted you take it.

You study the faces of those who walk past; some familiar, many not. Anyone of them might be Hades — he won’t show the face of Solus here — but the eyes that pass over you hold little more than suspicion. Best not to linger, then. You don’t care to have the Temple Knights breathing down your neck to unmask your identity. The city would be abuzz to know that the Warrior of Light has returned, and word would travel quickly from the deepest gutter in the Brume to the highest seat in the House of Lords. 

A cup of Ishgardian tea would be lovely, but that would necessitate a trip to the tavern, or calling upon House Fortemps; neither of which you’re inclined to do. Instead, your feet carry you to the Crozier where you make do with a sweet croissant. The vendor gives you an odd look when you hand them a Nightworld silver piece — the currency little more than a smooth disc of metal after a century of handling. Fortunately, you find a few Eorzean gil clinking together in the bottom of your pocket, and pass them over before they ask questions.

As you make your way back to Foundation, you recognize faces from the Brume among the Crozier’s stalls: stocking, sewing, sweeping. The disparity among Ishgard’s social castes has improved by leaps and bounds since your time here. Still, it turns your stomach — to know that one man huddles beneath tattered blankets in the alleys while another lay his head down on the finest silks. It matters not. This is only a moment in time. You’ll usher in the Ardor and rebuild that utopia of your memories, and once again your people will live in equality and harmony. 

Your gaze settles upon a tall figure by the massive Aetheryte. Though his back is turned, you know it’s Hades; you can feel his aether. And that silver hair! Dazed, you move halfway across the plaza when you collide with the man who leaps into your path.

“Steady now!” he laughs, righting you by the shoulders. “If I had a gil for every beautiful woman that’s fallen for me —”

“You would be broke, my lord.”

“Do be quiet, Honoroit.”

A nervous sweat breaks out across the back of your neck. Of all the luck. _Of course_ you’ve run into the youngest of the Fortemps family, the biggest gossip in Ishgard. 

“I knew it was you! That stuffy old cloak couldn’t fool me. Well, how is it, old girl?” Emmanellain asks, slapping you too roughly across the back. You hastily stuff the remaining half of the croissant between your teeth and fumble to grip the Elezen by the lapels. Zodiark, you always forget that the man is _older_ than you. 

“Huff!” you hiss at him. “I uhn nee any—” You release him and remove the pastry from your mouth. “I don’t want to be seen!”

“What nonsense!” he laughs, catching you by the wrist. “Have you been by the manor? Father will be delighted for your company, and Artoirel…” His merriment drops off as he spies the glimmer of metal at your finger.

“Oh,” he sighs. The light in his eyes carries too much wisdom for one so young. Mournful, but understanding. He knows that it isn’t Aymeric's. 

“Do they make you happy?” he asks, the trace of a smile on his face.

In answer, you reach for the man who approaches you from behind — and clasp the hand that reaches back. You’re near breathless that Hades has appeared as the man in your memories; golden eyes peering out through snowy hair, his face more youthful than the mask of Solus. Emmanellain near chokes on his surprise; for by all appearances, this unusually tall Hyur is entirely unremarkable.

“Wait. You’re serious? _This surly fellow_?”

“My Lord, please!” Honoroit pleads, attempting to pull him back by the elbow. The taller elezen is already leaning into Hades’ face, and you see how his brow wrinkles in annoyance. This will be a disaster if you don’t put a stop to things.

“Who are you, sir? Some kind of mage? A librarian?” he asks, poking at the dark traveler’s robes that your husband wears. “Speak, man! Your name! From whence do you hail?”

“My Lord, I thought you were beyond such behavior! If Count Artoirel should see this —”

“Goodness, no! My brother would undoubtedly ask the same questions. After all old girl, you’re one of the family, and we — hmpph!” You plug Emmanellain’s mouth with the rest of your croissant and turn to his ward.

“A ten-minute head start,” you demand of the hassled youth, and then look to Hades. “With luck, we’ll board an airship before anyone comes calling. I can’t wait to introduce you to the moogles.” 

With a half-hearted salute, you pull your hood closer, and tug your partner along. He has the good grace to wait until you’re out of earshot before pressing with questions.

“Who was that?”

“Emmanellain, youngest of the Fortemps family. Can’t say why he’s in Ishgard. He’s garrisoned in the Coerthas Central Highlands, these days.” Once you’re out of eyesight from the plaza, you bank a sharp left toward the Skysteel Manufactory. 

“Ah, the noble house that took you in after the ‘Bloody Banquet’, was it?”

Your heart leaps. You come to a full stop, nearly thrown off your feet as Hades crashes into your back.

“What are you doing?” he gripes, nearly falling, but you catch him around the middle and push him up against the stone wall of the Manufactory and crush your lips to his, though you manage very little contact with the way you’re grinning.

“You listened to my stories!” you squeal, leaving him entirely nonplussed. You’d whiled away so many hours in Amaurot recounting your adventures, even when you thought he wasn’t paying you any mind. It would seem that he heard every word.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he questions, pulling your hood back into place around your head. The knight near the Highlands gate is yelling, something about getting a room before he charges you with impropriety in the streets. 

“We’d better go. It’s been over five minutes and knowing Emmanellain, half of Ishgard knows that I’m here by now. I’d like to get a head start before they come looking.” You take his hand again, leading him toward the grumbling knight and the gate.

“Don’t think such behavior is any more acceptable in Falcon’s Nest,” the guard warns as you pass by. You giggle a promise to behave before moving on, dragging Hades along to where the chocobos take flight from.

“What a drab place,” he complains, having a look around. “I see no airship landing.”

“Oh, we’re not taking an airship,” you shrug, pulling a whistle from your pocket. “The landing’s off in the opposite direction. I only said that to buy us some time. Here,” you grin, thrusting the whistle toward him. “You _know_ how to whistle, don’t you? Just put your lips together and —”

“Har har.” He scowls at having his own words thrown back at him, reluctantly plucking the object from your fingers. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” he questions looking at your widening smile, but he puts the instrument to his lips. Soon enough, a burst of light appears in the space before you, and reforms into a very large, very pink bird.

“Kweh!”

“No _,_ ” Hades says, firmly.

“ _Yes_ ,” you counter. 

“You don’t expect me to — It smells!” he growls, wrinkling his nose at the chocobo. 

“He doesn’t _smell_!” you laugh, petting the creature’s beak. The bird chirps happily and kneels, waiting for you to hop up in the saddle. As you settle down you pat the space behind you, looking to Hades expectantly. "Let's go, your Radiance. Your chariot awaits.”

"My arse grows sore from merely _looking_ at the thing."

" _I'll_ give you a sore arse if you don't hurry," you threaten through a widening grin. He hangs his head dramatically and trudges over to swing his leg over the bird and drop into the seat behind you. He wraps his arms securely around your middle, quick to take advantage of the closeness.

“Don't make threats you don't intend to keep,” he teases with a murmur in your ear — sending delightful chills along your spine. The heat of him pressed against your back would otherwise have you more than hot under the collar, but you have a task at hand.

“I intend to keep every one of them. After we finish this.” You grasp the leather straps of your chocobo’s reins, prepared to signal for flight. “I hope you don’t get airsick,” you joke. 

Before Hades can think to reply, the bird takes a great leap forward, followed by the familiar dropping of your stomach as he lifts from the ground and swiftly ascends. It’s not so smooth as an airship, and you swear that you hear your partner gulp down his queasiness, but you’re far more focused on a sense of growing anticipation as your chocobo soars above the frozen lands. It’s not long before he drops to glide through the icy cave that connects to your destination.

The surrounding walls soon open up, revealing the grand expanse of the Hinterlands. No matter how many times you see it, the view never fails to cause a swelling joy in your chest. Your heart throbs with nostalgia as you soar over the Daggers, aimed toward the Thaliak. In the distance, you spy the Arkitechton. Unbidden, a groan rises from your throat.

“What’s the matter?”

“Old enemies,” you respond, dryly, and swerve your chocobo toward the Sharlayan ruins. From your vantage point, it's easy to spy remnants of the goblin Illuminati ambling about the terrain. You thought the death of Quickthinx Allthoughts would have gone some ways to drive them out of the Hinterlands, but perhaps all you did was raise a martyr to their cause. It's not long before one of them spies you hovering over their territory. 

And they know damned well who you are.

With pointed fingers and angry cries, they soon have projectiles and stolen magitek weapons lining you up in their sights. You can't see your own face, but you feel yourself scowling. You have half a mind to swoop down and test your new grimoire on them. 

Hades' fingers tighten at your waist.

"Let's not get distracted," he cautions, and raises his hand to _snap_. Immediately, spikes of dark energy materialize and rain down on your foes, breaking machinery and sending those made of flesh and blood ducking for cover. 

"I could have handled them," you insist. He hums in agreement. 

"I've no doubt. Shall we continue on?"

You merely nod in assent and set off once more toward the magnificent dome that rises from the waters to meet you. It's one adventure you haven't relayed in-depth. 

“The Illuminati summoned a primal into Alexander,” you call over your shoulder, guiding your bird toward the great mechanical being. Sealed off as it is, you can do little but hover above the great machination. 

“‘Time is an endless circle’,” you ponder aloud. “At least, that’s what Mide said.” You feel Hades stiffen behind you. 

“What was that?”

“The goblins called it ‘The Wings of Time’. Whoever controlled Alexander could have rewritten history.” When he doesn’t respond, you continue.

“I don’t understand it very well myself, but that magic seems too dangerous for mortal hands. Anyhow, it’s a long story. Remind me to tell you about it later.”

He’s gone quiet, but you’re too caught up in your growing anticipation as your chocobo enters its final descent. Beneath a ceiling of jagged rock pillars. Past swarms of cockatrice, leeches, and the odd poroggos that line shallow waters. Beyond wildflowers and creeping ivy that line your path. At last you come to what appears as a dead end. Your bird lands gracefully and kneels, allowing you to dismount with little effort. Hades isn’t far behind. 

Glancing aside to him for reassurance, you raise your hand toward a nondescript section of the rock wall, reaching out with your aether.

There.

You feel the edges of the panel with your magic, as if you were prying your fingers into the crevice. You’re about to slide it open when he catches you by the wrist, staying your hand.

"Once you've opened the door, there's no turning back." He’s almost frowning, his tone laden with concern. 

“Isn’t that what you want?” You tilt your head at him, perplexed.

“I’m asking what _you_ want.”

Realization hits you unexpectedly hard. You know how badly he wants to make you whole. To make you his equal. You’ve already had this conversation. He prepared you to go through with it. Why would he stop you? If he’d held his tongue you would have had the entrance open by now. But you sense the turmoil churning within him. He’s worried about how you feel. How the present, _sundered_ you feels. 

You can't find the words. Instead, you throw yourself upon him, fingers clawing into his robes. If you look him in the eyes, you might break. He takes you by the chin, ever so gently, and makes you do it, anyway. 

“We can stop,” he offers. “If you still have doubts…”

You shake your head fiercely. 

"I'm nervous," you admit, feeling the warmth of shame creep up your neck. "But believe me when I say that I want this. I want…" 

Something surges up from inside of you. Conflicting emotions that twist your soul, stirring into the frustrations that have addled your brain these recent weeks. At last, you can put words to your ailments. The dam bursts, and they flood from your lips. 

“I want to remember!” you cry, fisting your hands into his lapels. You shake him for emphasis, and he watches you, wide eyed.

“My soul is trying to tell me something. I’ve felt it ever since that day we met in the Crystarium, but it’s always just out of my reach. It aches! It feels hollow, like something was carved out of me.”

You drag him down, flinging your arms around his neck. Whatever he attempts to say is lost as you crush your mouth to his, ignoring the pain as his teeth scrape against your lip. He doesn’t complain, but you can feel his confusion through your connection, even as his arms circle around your waist.

“My beautiful Hades,” you sigh against his lips. “Do you know how desperate I am for you? I need to know. I need to know everything! The good, and the bad. All that’s passed between us."

He turns on you in an instant. You're swept off balance as he seizes you by the hips, lifting you off your feet. He pins you against the rock wall. You wrap your legs around his waist. A rock digs into the small of your back, and you relish the pain, so long as he doesn’t let you go. 

"I want to tear you apart," you rasp, scraping your nails along his neck. He hisses. You tangle your fingers into his hair. “I’ve been wanting to throw you down and have my way with you since I saw you by the aetheryte.”

“Because I look like myself?” he pants, surprised.

“Yes! I can’t help it!” you cry, dragging him in again. You fumble blindly with his robes, searching for clasps you know to be there. He’s kissing you back, but it’s restrained, and then he breaks away. He lets you down gently before holding you at arm’s length. 

“Not now,” he warns. Frustrated, you reach for him. He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head before leaning into your face. Your breath catches. 

“You said it yourself. All of Ishgard must know that the Warrior of Light has returned. Your erstwhile allies have certainly employed agents to hunt for you.”

“That’s unfair! You would show yourself to me like this, and I’m not supposed to touch you?”

“I never said that, dearest. Only that this isn’t the time.”

That answer doesn’t satisfy you. You try again, squirming in his grip. This time he presses up against you, nearly lifting you off the ground. 

“Don’t mistake this for rejection,” he growls into your ear. “I will make you whole, and then I will reclaim you in every sense of the word.” 

You shudder with anticipation. 

“But time is not on our side.” When he leans back, something passes through his eyes, but it’s gone just as quickly. Then he presses his lips to yours with such tenderness that you feel your eyes burn. 

You search for something to say, but words aren’t necessary. You know what you must do now. This time, when he steps back, you straighten up and return to your task. Raising your hand, you extend your magic once more. You pry along the edge of the rock panel until it gives way and slides open easily. The cave’s dimly lit maw opens wide. You turn to Hades, confidence tempering your voice.

“Remember the plan,” you say with a sly grin. The smirk he returns sends a thrill of excitement along your spine.

“I’ll be watching.” In the blink of an eye, he disappears into shadow and leaves you to forge ahead. So you step forward into that darkness.

The poroggos that guard the entrance don’t attack, they haven’t touched you since your first encounter with the witch. You know better than to expect you’ll have the element of surprise with Matoya, but you’re taken aback to hear voices ahead of you. Someone else is here.

Krile.

“...looking for her now. It’s unlikely that she’ll head for the Rising Stones, but Arenvald and Riol are aware of the situation. I only pray that—”

Whatever the Lalafellan woman would ask of the gods goes unheard. You step forth from the entryway, making your presence known. All eyes are immediately upon you. Matoya’s lips stretch in a thin grimace. Krile has gone silent at her side.

“Forgive me for dropping in unannounced,” you say, spreading your arms in greeting. “I need your help, Master Matoya.”

The old woman remains silent, tightening her grip on her staff. Krile, it seems, has regained her bearings and is looking upon you with a critical eye. 

“Is it truly you, my friend?” she starts. She balls her hands into fists and takes a step forward.

“I assumed the worst when I heard the news, but...” She shakes her head, her eyes growing wide. “This isn’t—!”

Krile once said that each variation of the echo is different. Hers is the gift to hear the whispers of the soul. Can she read your intentions? Is she able to glean what’s in your heart? And if so... 

“It can’t be!”

She looks upon you with horror. In return, you smile sweetly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Chysgoda for playing beta this chapter. <3


	4. Drowning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After confronting her former allies, the Warrior descends into the aetherial sea.

As the (former) Warrior of Light and Darkness, you know very well that nothing is ever easy. Just this once, you wish that it were. You’re standing twenty fulms from your destination, it’s so close! Your heart is pounding, you feel weak in the knees — but you must contend with Matoya, the mistress of this cave before you can proceed. As dim as the light is, and her face obscured by the wide brim of her hat, you still feel those dark, piercing eyes on you.

“Name one reason I shouldn’t strike you down where you stand,” she threatens. It confirms your suspicions — either she’s seen something she doesn’t like, or she has doubts about your sudden reappearance. You’ll have to watch your tongue, as both women are poised to attack if you so much as sneeze. 

"I know how this must look, but there's no time to waste arguing. I barely escaped. When Emet-Selch realizes I’m gone, he’ll be right on my tail." They exchange looks, but they're listening. 

"What happened?" Krile asks. "Are you… alright?" 

"Not really. Feo Ul must have told you about the Lightwardens, and my condition." She nods for you to continue. "Emet-Selch thought to halt my transformation. He sealed the light within me — a temporary measure. Even he couldn’t purge it.”

"Why would an Ascian help you? Seems you hunt their lot for sport.” She’s handing you the rope to hang yourself with, and you’re a terrible liar. One misstep will out your betrayal. There’s only one thing to do in this situation — tell the truth and pray that it’s convincing. You frown and stare at the floor, balling your hands into fists at your sides.

"Because I'm important to him. Or rather, I was.”

“Seeing as you’re on borrowed time, you’d better explain fast.” 

“Recall what Minfilia — no, The Word of the Mother revealed to us about this world. I learned many hard truths on the First, but among them was an answer that has long eluded us — the motive of the Ascians.”

"You're serious?" Krile leans forward, enraptured, but Matoya watches you as keenly as ever. You feel the back of your neck prickle under her eyes, but then Hades' aether brushes against you encouragingly. Wherever he's hiding, you take comfort knowing that he's watching over you.

"Yes. Long ago, before the sundering, the star was home to an ancient people. They were nigh immortal, living in a utopian society, until calamity struck." This is where you must diverge from the truth, borrowing from the version of events as Hydaelyn has told them. 

"Zodiark?" Krile asks, but you shake your head.

"The root remains unknown, but terrible creatures appeared, devastating that world and all who lived there. Zodiark intervened, but the balance between light and dark had heavily skewed. The star was dying."

"And Hydaelyn fought with him to restore it," Krile adds, thinking aloud. You tilt your head. 

"Her blow was decisive. We know that She sundered Zodiark, and the star along with him — but also every soul upon it."

“Every soul?” The Lalafell falls to silence, tapping her chin in thought, then gasps. “You can’t mean —” 

“I’ve seen the ancient ruins for myself, the Scions too! More than that, I…” You turn your gaze down, staring into your upturned palm. “I met my reflection on the First. The Warrior of Darkness, Ardbert. He and I are of a shared soul.”

“Bugger all, girl,” Matoya curses. “Bringing this drivel to my doorstep. Get to the point.”

“That _is_ the point!” you cry, waving your hands in frustration. “You and I were born from the sundered souls of the ancients. That’s why the Ascians pursue the rejoinings. For every reflection made one with the Source, our souls become denser — one fragment closer to restoration. The Ascians — Emet-Selch, Elidibus… they are survivors of that ancient calamity, and they mean to resurrect their brethren.” 

"That’s blasphemous!" Krile exclaims, making her hands into fists. "The dead can’t be brought back to life — how many examples of this wayward thinking have you seen during your travels? It’s nothing more than necromancy.”

“Zodiark promised them it would work,” you sigh. “How can I persuade them otherwise? All I can do is try to prevent their success.”

"Why come here?” Matoya asks, abruptly changing topics. “Why didn't you go to the Scions?"

"There's nothing they can do," you reply sadly. "Nor the Crystal Exarch. "Without help I will become a Lightwarden, and all our efforts will have been in vain. I can't even face Emet-Selch in this state. Please, say that you'll help me."

"And what am I supposed to do?" she snorts. "I'm not a miracle worker."

"I must speak with Hydaelyn. Please, Matoya — let me borrow your crystal eye. I would have it guide me to Her."

"You mean to enter the Aetherial Sea? Are you mad?" she scoffs. "As I recall, She barely had the strength to send you back to shore the last time. How do you plan to free yourself if it goes to shite?"

"The light," you say firmly. "This light could restore Her."

"If it's corrupted you, who's to say it won't do the same to Hydaelyn?" Krile argues. You'll have to tell a few lies after all.

"Minfilia told me as much."

"Minfilia is alive?" your Lalafellan friend exclaims. She bolts two steps forward before her senses catch up, fixing her in place. 

"Oh, Krile. I wish there were an easier way," you begin with a frown. This at least is not feigned. Minfilia deserved better than what Hydaelyn did to her. "After she departed for the First with the Warriors of Darkness, she spent herself to stay a flood of light from consuming the star. Her soul then drifted until we found our way to one another. She had only the strength to deliver a parting message — 'seek Hydaelyn', she bid me."

"Yet you lingered on the First, instead of calling upon me earlier?" Matoya seems determined not to let this go.

"I had a duty," you bite back. "Our battles had become intense. Lives were at stake. I was after the final Lightwarden when Emet-Selch stole me away. It was all I could do to bide my time until he let his guard down."

"By the twelve," the old woman huffs. "Krile, fetch the Eye," she commands. Your friend appears hesitant. She’s wary, but dutifully scurries off after a moment. 

"Who were you to him?" Matoya asks. You know what she means — your ancient self. It might not hurt to be honest, but you'd rather downplay any attachments to Hades on your own part, lest she make assumptions.

"A dear friend," you decide. "He thought he might sway me to his cause, I suppose — but I am me. Whoever this soul belonged to in the past…" You shake your head. "He's a far worse opponent than any I've faced before. We must act swiftly."

Matoya grows quiet. Fortunately, it’s not long before Krile returns with a hefty parcel in her hands — the Crystal Eye. She sets it upon the table. It’s so close now, right there for the taking! You move closer, staring at your reflection in the large blue orb, tempted to reach out. Aether crackles up your spine — a warning from Hades to snap you out of your disastrous thoughts. Krile is watching you.

“Are you alright?” she asks once again. 

You’re about to respond when Matoya calls your name. “Fetch my tea,” she orders, pointing to a table in the corner. “I’ll need my strength to remove the seal upon the door.”

You hide a grimace, annoyed by the delay, but at least this will be the end of it. With a nod you turn away to collect the strange herbal concoction that she's so fond of. You make it halfway across the room when she calls you once more.

“There’s one more thing,” she insists. You look over your shoulder and your eyes meet. You’ve been had.

“Secure!” she shouts, raising her staff. Aetherial chains erupt all around you, winding tight around your body. They pull taut, bringing you heavily to your knees. 

“What’s the meaning of this?” you cry, outraged.

“Do you think I’m daft, girl?” the old woman barks. "Your fae friend gave us ample warning." So Feo Ul told them of your outing in Il Mheg. You should have assumed as much, but it's too late now.

"Where's the man you brought with you? Where is the Ascian?" _Thanks Emmanellain_ , you think bitterly.

Your eyes dart to Krile, who at least looks apologetic. "Please, don't fight us," she implores. "We'll help you."

 _Hades!_ You call out through the aether, but you no longer feel his presence. Icy fear gnaws at the pit of your stomach. He wouldn't leave you behind. He wouldn't!

Still, you attempt to calm your mind and focus your aether. You need to break these chains before —

"Don't waste time!" the witch snaps at Krile. It startles her into action. At least she's no longer watching you with those pitying eyes. You see her reach for her ear, the chilly sensation spreading into your chest when you realize what she's doing. 

"Arenvald, answer me! We've found —!"

The linkpearl explodes from her ear in a puff of violet smoke. She cries out in pain, clutching the side of her head. You think you've seen blood. Then Hades steps out from the shadows.

Matoya lifts her staff, a barrier materializing between him and the Lalafell. Your friend is dazed, but she collects herself enough to grab the Eye.

"I think not," Hades snarls, raising his hand, but Matoya is ready. A flash of light blinds you. You hear him hiss, followed by the scurry of small feet. 

"Take it and go!" the witch orders. Squinting, you see Krile's form turn to the mouth of the cave, but Hades is faster. He reappears before her and snatches for the Eye, only to hit upon a hastily erected barrier.

"Into the tower!" 

Krile dodges away, Hades prepared to follow, when a cry is wrung from your throat. The chains are pulling tighter. At this rate, you'll be crushed.

 _Just focus_ , you tell yourself. _I've done this before._

You feel with your aether, unseen tendrils racing along those chains, looping through their links, seeking a weak point. 

_There!_ They break apart, dissolving into a dusting of light as Hades drops to his knees before you. 

"I'm sorry," you mutter, rubbing your shoulder. You'll bruise where those bindings bit into your skin. "I messed up. I should have —"

He presses his lips to yours. Soft, reassuring. "You're alright?" he asks. Your heart skips a beat.

"Why didn't you go after them?" you wonder.

"I would not place them before you. I should have stepped in earlier," he laments, stroking your hair. "The old woman used you to distract me. T'was not my intent for you to come to harm."

"This is nothing," you shrug. "We should hurry. If that linkpearl transmission went through, the Scions are likely to hurry here. The distance from the nearest aetherytes will buy us time, but…"

"You worry overmuch. You say the tower leads only to the Sea. There’s nowhere for them to run."

"Maybe, but if anyone comes in behind us, we'll be caught in a pincer attack." There are few among the Scions still on the source that would pose a threat, but you'd rather not chance it. Deep down, you wish for as few casualties as possible.

Hades raises a hand and _snaps_ , a sly smile upon his lips. "Be at ease, my dear. I've raised a barrier to the outside. They won't break it so easily."

"You have an answer for everything, don't you?" You feign annoyance, showing a playful roll of your eyes. 

"You like it," he teases back. "Shall we go?" He picks himself up, offering you a hand, though once you're on your feet he's reluctant to release you.

"Is something wrong?" you ask. Is he still second-guessing your commitment to the plan?

"I know you wished to solve this without violence, but it's out of your hands." Somehow you feel his intent, without words behind it — he's offering to take care of it for you.

"No, I…" You know what you must do. "We fight as one now — though I would avoid killing them." He shrugs.

"I will be as amenable as possible." It's the best answer you're going to get. With that settled, there's nothing more to stop you from entering the tower. You look to the nondescript door that serves as its entrance.

"Shall we?" He nods, and you take those last steps toward the door. 

*****

Another poroggo falls with a pitiful croak, scattering into motes of light. Your faithful carbuncle barks and leaps, a blur of emerald, before the next one can raise its wand. You’ve faced a seemingly endless army of the things since setting foot in the tower’s realm.

“They’re gaining distance,” Hades huffs behind you. He’s gazing ahead to some unknown point. Of course he can track the movements of your opponents by their aether. “I tire of this game.” He raises his hand toward the remaining familiars. Orbs of dark energy bloom around them, exploding in flashes of violet light. More aether scatters into the air, and your carbuncle bounds to your side.

“Matoya’s slowing us down,” you think aloud. “While we waste time here, she could be conjuring a real threat — but I'm sure you know that."

"Let us be about it then. I do wish you would make proper use of my gift," he complains, with a nod to your grimoire.

"When the time is right.” You're sure that your carbuncle just gave Hades a pointed look. Ahead the upside-down tower looms large, its spires ever pointed down toward the swirling sea. No matter how much distance your once friends gain, their victory will be short lived. Only a dead end awaits them.

You surge forth in tandem, felling creatures left and right. As you've suspected there is no greater monster to guard the entrance proper. Matoya should have replaced the tower’s guardians while she had the chance, but then how could she have envisioned the scenario you currently find yourself in?

Onward through candlelit halls you push, holding your breath around blind corners, with carbuncle by your side and Hades at your back. You hope against hope that Krile and Matoya will stand down. You don't want to hurt them, not really. 

Not unless they resist. If they resist you'll have no choice. Protect yourself, protect Hades. Deny the light. Deny Her servants. _Denydenydeny_ —

You shake your head to clear your thoughts, rounding the final turn. This is it. You move forth and step into the inner sanctum, the lowest room in the tower. Thankfully there are no rampant dolls this time. With their backs to the wall, Matoya and Krile prepare to make their last stand, staves drawn. 

“We don’t have to fight,” you say, trying to reason with them. “Just give me the Eye.”

“And what will you do?” Krile asks. Her hood has fallen back, offering a rare glimpse at her high ponytail. A bit of blood is matted in the curls at her ear, and you wonder if her hearing wasn’t damaged by Hades’ blow.

“I only mean to reclaim what’s mine.” It won’t satisfy her curiosity, but it’s the only answer you care to give. The less they know of Hydaelyn’s true nature, the happier they will be. You would prefer your former friends to spend their remaining days in as much happiness as they can. 

“You waste your breath,” Matoya grumbles to her companion. “Even the Warrior of Light isn’t infallible. You know what must be done.”

Yes, you remember the witch’s speech quite well. Whatever it takes to win a war? She would have you die if it meant preservation of the status quo, though you have no intention of giving up your life. You’re going to live. By Zodiark’s blessing you will be reborn as your true self. You’re going to walk alongside Hades as you reclaim the future. You have somewhere you belong — and no one will take that away.

“You’ve made your choice,” you sigh, resigned to your path. At a wave of your hand, your emerald carbuncle leaps and dissolves into a dusting of aether. There is another companion you would call upon for this task. You sweep a hand across your grimoire, speaking the incantation in quiet words. A bubble of dark energy forms in the air, bursting into violet light. This new familiar leaps forth, ready to obey your command — amethyst carbuncle. You don’t look at Hades, but you can sense that he’s pleased.

Krile wastes no time. She lifts her staff, a flash of light forming into a protective shield. Amethyst carbuncle bounces off of the barrier, whirling about to blow up a gust attack. Flame bursts to life at your feet. Hades snags you by the arm, hauling you to his side as he dispels the threat. Your carbuncle slams against Krile’s barrier — you see her falter, but Matoya is ready. A chill races down your spine. You look up to see spikes of ice form above you. Hades throws out a shield, the frozen spears raining down to shatter upon it. He’d said that he would protect you. The realization stirs a heat in your chest, but this isn’t the time to think about such things.

It continues like this, blow for blow, neither side gaining ground. For all the rumors you’ve heard about the great aether witch, Matoya is proving them all to be true. You’re fighting a battle of attrition when you should have already settled this. You could end this in one decisive blow. You would kill them, but it would be done with. It shouldn’t be this difficult. Why are you unable to make the decision? This has to come to an end, before their backup arrives. You need to act. You need to —

“Enough,” Hades growls. He raises his hand and _snaps_ , and then it’s over. A spear of dark energy splits the air, passing through Krile’s small form in the blink of an eye. You see her eyes go wide before she tumbles forward, landing heavily on the ground. Matoya makes the mistake of glancing aside. Hades strikes again, a wave of energy throwing the old woman against the wall. She grunts from the impact before sliding down, collapsing into a rumpled heap. 

“It’s done.” He looks at you expectantly. Your carbuncle has relaxed, the threat having been dealt with. You see the Eye at rest near Krile’s limp body. Several short steps bring you to her side, and you kneel to collect the crystal. Your hands are trembling. After a moment you rise up, turning to Hades with your prize. Your chest feels tight. The room is spinning.

“Stay with me,” he commands in a gentle tone. He takes you by the arm to correct your balance. “It’s almost done. You know what to do.”

“Y—yes,” you agree. “I can do it. I…” A thought occurs to you, and you reach inside of your cloak to retrieve a small object. His aetherial glasses. You hand them over, thankful for the brief awkwardness to break the tension. 

“Krile used this crystal to follow Minfilia’s aetherial trail, after Hydaelyn called her into the lifestream. It should point us in the right direction, although… wouldn’t you do a better job? You know, with your sight?”

“With an ancient crystal of light?” he shrugs. “You know that I can’t use it. Just focus. You’ll do fine, darling.”

So this is it. No more distractions, no more delays. Your hold on the orb has become a bit slippery. Your palms are sweating. “Alright. I’m going to do it,” you say, and draw a deep breath to steady your nerves.

Then you _feel_. The barrier between you and the sea is so thin, here in this space. The more you let your mind drift, the more attuned you become to the flow of aether below you. It’s not turbulent, like the waters around Limsa Lominsa can sometimes be. It’s smooth, purposeful, ever moving. It pulls at your soul.

Before you know it, you’re caught up in the tide.

*****

You feel as though you’re floating along in a sea of stars. The space around you seems infinite, and it’s as dark as the night sky — but all around you is the flow of life. A thousand thousand threads of light move together, twisting and twining but never tangling. This aether, this life force, that has existed for all time. Though sundered and weakened, this same aether flowed through the ancient world where you once lived. It gives rise to an ache in your heart, a longing for something long gone. A firm hand at your back brings your mind back into focus.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” you ask Hades. Even when you’ve visited Hydaelyn in this realm, you’ve never seen the sea like this.

“Mayhap in your eyes, my dear. All that I see is faded. A mockery of what once was.”

Mouthing a quiet ‘oh’, you return to the task at hand. Somewhere below you are the last fragments of your soul. The crystal eye told you as much — acting as an aetherial compass. Having served its purpose, you left it behind in the tower, of course. 

“I’m not entirely sure what to do,” you think aloud. You close your eyes, letting your subconscious wander. You think of how it felt when you touched Ardbert’s hand. It was so familiar, so right, a magnetic attraction. You replay the memory in your head, over and over again, recalling that sensation when you became one. Hades’ gaze flicks down to the flow of aether, and he adjusts the glasses resting on his nose.

“There,” he murmurs, extending a hand. You open your eyes and watch him, wondering what it is that he sees. 

“Focus,” he chides gently, and you understand at once what he’s doing. You’ve become a beacon for your wandering shards and he, blessed by the underworld, is plucking them from the flow. You close your eyes again and make yourself concentrate, calling the rest of your soul home. A stray thought begs the question, does Hydaelyn know what you’re doing? You can’t think about that right now. You need to focus! You silently repeat it as a mantra, _focusfocusfocus_!

Hades’ hand at your shoulder stirs you from your meditation. When you open your eyes, you are surrounded by glowing aether. Five stars, five soul fragments circle you, shining brightly. They appear white in your eyes, but he murmurs something under his breath. Something about ‘that most beautiful blue’. 

“What should I do?” you ask, though you don’t expect an answer. This is uncharted territory. No sundered soul has been fully restored before now. You think again of Ardbert, how it felt the first time he touched your hand, and then when he became one with you in that cave. It was as if you’d let down your barriers, and his aether — _your_ aether — willingly flowed in. You wonder if you could do the same now.

You extend a hand, reaching for the first shining star that catches your eye. In your mind’s eye you imagine a wall around yourself, and then envision that wall coming down. Your skin prickles as gooseflesh, and then it’s like a siphon, a tendril of light reaching out from that star towards your hand. It doesn’t stop when it meets your fingertips. It flows into you. You feel it as a pleasant warmth creeping through your body. This is nothing like when you absorbed the Sin Eater’s light. This feels natural.

You stay like that until the light fades, until you have taken in all that there is. An odd sensation courses through you. A euphoria mixed with the unpleasantness of having stood up too fast. A short-lived side effect, you expect.

Four starry lights remain, though it seems that Hades has corralled one of them to the side. “Keep this one for last,” he tells you. You don’t understand, but nod in agreement and then reach toward the next star.

Again you envision letting your guard down, letting the aether flow into you. Something has changed, however. You twist your lips as a dizziness washes over you. Perhaps this fragment carries a larger portion of your magic. Maybe it contains a greater share of your memories. No! You realize with a pang of worry, the light is practically _forcing_ itself to flow faster into your body. You clamp your eyes shut and imagine pushing back against it, trying to slow it down, but you feel it touch you from behind. Looking over your shoulder, you see that a second fragment has grown impatient and has reached out to you on its own.

“Hades!” you call, not quite suppressing the startled tone to your voice. He turns quickly to see what has you upset, but now the third fragment has extended itself, another tendril of pulsing aether piercing your soul. It’s too much, it’s too fast! You’re caught between three fragments of yourself with a desperation to rebind to you, and you haven’t the strength to force yourself away.

“Hold on!” he cries, but it won’t be so easy for him to fly to your side. The fourth fragment he’s held at bay undulates strangely, as if it’s agitated by the others. He’s restrained it for now, but you can see how it lashes out, fighting against him. Very quickly it demands his full attention, else it too will join the assault on your soul.

“I can’t take it!” you yell out, thrashing against the flood. Your body feels so heavy, but your mind feels lighter and lighter. You’ve felt like this only once before, a very long time ago. With a dawning horror you recognize the sensation for what it is. 

You’re drowning.

“Hades, help me!” you call again, struggling with all of your might. He cries out to you but the sound is muffled in your ears. You’re sinking fast, your mind addled as more aether rushes in. You suck in a breath only to choke, try to scream, but no sound comes out. Your world is growing cold and dark, and Hades is still fighting with your volatile fragment.

“Persephone!” 

Did he call your name, or was it imagined? Your senses are shutting down. First your hearing, then your body grows numb. Soon after, the light fades from your eyes. Maybe this is punishment. A judgement against the one called Azem, for daring to walk alone.

_Azem? Who is Azem?_

Was that your own thought, or was it something dreamed? You suppose you’ll never find out. It looks like you’re going to die after all.

Those are your last thoughts as the world disappears.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are a writer and/or enjoy FFXIV fics, come join a very friendly and enabling group: https://discord.gg/ftFnYbe
> 
> Find me on Twitter: @AzureSummoner


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